


Sunflower

by EverythingShines



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Boys In Love, Falling In Love, Love, M/M, Romance, Sex, Smut, fluffy filler, in-universe, show filler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15175076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverythingShines/pseuds/EverythingShines
Summary: Meant to stay true to the canonical story (with a few liberties sprinkled in). A closer look at Ian and Mickey's relationship as it develops between what is shown on Shameless. Mickey bullies his sister's "boyfriend," Ian, but discovers an attraction to him. Mickey initiates a physical relationship and Ian falls for him. Thus begins their unlikely romance, ridden with obstacles that they must try to overcome in favor of finding love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking and reading, if you did.  
> This is pure, fluffy filler for the Gallavich story on SHOwtime's Shameless. I know there are probably thousands of fanfics written about our boys, and I love reading them. I wrote this one to round out their story arc--it's as true to the show as I could keep it (taking some liberties--enjoy). Gallavich doesn't get a ton of screen time, so this is my imagining and daydreaming for all the parts of their story that we don't see.  
> There are lots of one-shots I enjoy reading that give glimpses of cute, feasible in-universe moments, and so I tried to have fun with taking a crack at something like that.  
> All constructive feedback is welcome and appreciated on the story or my writing style (it's my first shared fanfic). 
> 
> Note: This work is purely for fun and enjoyment. Please do not copy or translate in any way. Thank you. 
> 
>  
> 
> Please enjoy. <3

... CHAPTER 1

**Mickey**

     Mickey stumbled along the dirty sidewalk, chomping on his stolen spoils of canned chips. _Fucking Kash and Gallagher. Fags. And what was that dumb ginger talking about "civic pride" and shit? Fuck does that even mean?_ He sneered to himself, thinking about how he almost beat that little pretty boy up before because of what he had pulled with Mandy not too long ago. But now she's been hanging out with the kid. Whatever. It won't be long before he kicked the shit out of the redhead one way or another, talking to him like that. He'd already beaten up the other Gallagher kid.

     Fuck, he was hungry. He washed down the salty chips with some Gatorade. There was nothing at home but stale bread. hardening yellow cheese, and a few dry goods that he wouldn't be bothered to cook. And beer. There was always a healthy supply of booze.

     Mickey's father, Terry, wouldn’t be home from jail until later in the week, so he and his brothers had to pool the last of their own cash just to keep the electricity on--the old Milkovich house was drafty as it was. The only thing worse than a cold house with shitty heat was a cold house with shitty heat and no television. Bet if that pretty boy Gallagher knew he hadn't eaten since Mandy had made some gluey oatmeal the night before, he'd shut his stupid fucking face. He spared the annoying store clerk little thought more on his way back home, where his brothers were waiting to plan on their next scam for cash.

...

**Ian**

     Ian's stomach was still queasy as he walked back to the Kash and Grab, carrying the replacements for what Mickey stole. He hated having to confront Mandy's brother after being on the run from the Milkovich boys recently. It was no secret to anyone in the neighborhood that the family was dangerous. As as he started to get to know Mandy, he found it hard to judge, coming from a screwed up clan of his own. But Mickey scared him--the anger radiating off of Mickey always seemed to spark Ian's own adrenaline.

     Ian didn't know much about Mickey, but wished (futilely, he intuited) that the punk kid would back off of his workplace. The little store had come to be a haven of sorts for Ian. As long as Linda was out, Ian could happily flirt (and fuck) his shifts away with the owner, Kash, who had come to be his confidant and, well, his boyfriend. He could be himself with Kash, and even Kash's wife, Linda, wasn't so bad when the store was running smoothly. But the increasingly violent threat that Mickey imposed on a peaceful workplace made him sick.

     Speaking of Linda, looks like she beat him back to the store before he could restock. Great, Ian thought, bracing himself the newest round of Linda's scolding.

...

     A few days later, Ian was marching to the Milkovich house trying to steel his nerves.

     The previous morning when he'd gotten to store, laden with stolen meat he and Lip scored from that butcher truck, he was feeling pretty good. Besides the morning's bounty, he'd been stoked to plan with Kash for their hockey game date. He'd gotten tickets from his sister's boyfriend, Steve. He'd recalled his neighbor, Kev's recommendation to opt for the Edmonton tickets over Philadelphia with a chuckle. According to Kev, the Flyers were a "bunch of fags." He found his neighbor's ignorance comical rather than offensive only because his secret life was so satisfying. If Kev only knew...

     The smile had fallen from Ian's lips as soon as he came through the door to the store, when he’d immediately noticed Kash's blackened eye. Kash had stood behind the counter, not meeting Ian's stare, a look of shame on his beaten face. Ian knew on instinct it was Mickey who punctured his lighthearted mood, but when he found out the Milkovich thug had stolen Kash's newly acquired gun, too? Mickey was the whole reason for the new security instrument in the first place! Ian had to take matters in his own hands.

     Ian had Mandy let him into Mickey's room in a feeble attempt to recover the gun. When Ian hadn't had any success raiding Mickey's room that afternoon for Kash's gun, entry courtesy of Mandy, he decided to try for an early ambush the following morning.

     Now, Ian arrived at the stoop of the shabby house, not knowing what he was getting himself into. That familiar adrenaline buzz that Ian was coming to associate with the dangerous Mickey vibrated his body as soon as he pushed through the front door. But he wasn't scared--he decided he wasn't going to be helpless. Ian might be gay, but he was from the Chicago south side, and that meant he was tough. Time to show Mickey that his reign over the Kash and Grab was over.

...

  
**Mickey**

     Mickey started awake, as he usually did after his first stint in juvie. But this time, he realized he had good reason as something cold and hard dug into his back.

     "The fuck...?"

     "I want the gun back. Mickey," a sharp voice said. Mickey squinted up at the source of the prodding. A tire iron pointed at his face, held up by—

     "Gallagher?"

     "The gun!" the redhead urged.

      _Oh, this pretty boy fucker thinks he can just walk up in here demanding shit? Fine,_ Mickey thought, as his fight mode overtook his grogginess.

     "Alright," Mickey said aloud, grounding himself to attack as Ian watched him intently. He suddenly swung at the younger boy, catching him by surprise and overtaking him easily. They grappled, Mickey trying to yank the tool Ian was waving around uselessly.

      _Shit, this kid's stronger than he looks_ , Mickey thought, but he was in his element, no stranger to fighting. Apparently, neither was Ian. Mickey couldn't wait to smash his face in. Then again, he had been so curious about Ian lately. He felt the bizarre urge to stop Ian and talk to him. No, he couldn't do that--Ian asked for it by coming here. After throwing each other around the room, Mickey found himself on top of Ian on the bed, victoriously mounting Ian's chest. At last, he took the tire iron and raised it with the inherent Milkovich intent to bloody the soft, pale face now between Mickey's thighs.

     Acknowledging his defeat, Ian tried vainly to bury his face under the older boy's strong legs. But Mickey paused. Before he could deliver the brutal blow, he really saw Ian for the first time. He realized the adrenaline from the scuffle had gotten him... excited. Plus, morning wood would be setting in by this time anyway. Mickey wasn't sure if it was hormones or something else, but he couldn't hit that pretty face, he realized. _Shit_ , Mickey thought. Hadn't he heard a rumor that this kid was gay? What if...?

     In spite of his predicament, Ian curiously turned his his eyes up meet Mickey's at this pause. Mickey's stomach flipped. He knew Ian must have felt his erection. Breathless, Mickey gave in to the urge and dropped the weapon to the floor with a clank. _Fuck it_ , he thought as he ripped off his shirt. He didn't know what to think when Ian pushed him off and started pulling off his own clothes. _Oh god_ , Mickey thought. _What the fuck am I doing?_ He eyed Ian's hard torso hungrily as the younger boy reached for Mickey's waistband. His cock throbbed excitedly as Ian freed it. Mickey watched as Ian's expression changed from uncertainty to an excited lust. Ian Gallagher knew was doing.

     "You do this often, you fag?" Mickey snarled out in a whisper as Ian's own erection popped out and he stepped out of his pants.

     "Maybe. Never took you for gay, Mickey," Ian breathed into Mickey's ear as he pulled his hips into his own so their cocks were forced up against each other's pelvises. Mickey was a little taken aback by Ian’s size, but it was Ian’s lips grazing his earlobe, his neck that sent a shiver to his spine. The younger boy did not have heavy facial hair, yet Mickey experienced an undeniable thrill when he felt the prickly scrape of Ian’s early mustache graze the skin where Ian had kissed his neck.

     "I'm fuckin' not!" Mickey growled, electrified and taking Ian by the hips to push him roughly onto the bed. The grappling resumed as Ian pulled him into the bed and forced Mickey onto his stomach. “Oh no,” Mickey whispered. “I'm in charge, asshole,” he hissed out. Before he could turn Ian into the submissive position, Ian caught hold of his cock. Mickey bit his lip, watching the redhead begin to pump he collapsed next to Ian, allowing him to work. He felt the need to be dominant ebb away as he gave into Ian's obvious comfort. Feeling exposed, he yanked a red blanket up over them.

      _Why’s he gotta stare at me like that_ , Mickey wondered as Ian re-positioned himself in the tight bed. Ian was now hovering slightly over him, still pumping away, eyes only leaving his face to watch Mickey’s cock. Mickey was struck by how adept Ian seemed to be—not just with the handjob, but with another man’s junk. He’s never seen Ian this close up before, and now he could count every freckle. He kind of wanted to. That flaming fucking red hair falling over his eyes. Mickey had to touch it. He reached up to where Ian’s hair was darkened and matting with sweat to his forehead. Red silk. Ian looked surprised, but the the left corner of his mouth drifted upward into a smile.

     Just then, Mickey heard the floorboards shift and footsteps growing louder.

     "Off!" he sputtered. Ian made to roll off, when Terry Milkovich walked through the bedroom door and into the adjoining bathroom. Mickey froze. He. Was. Mortified. Neither boy moved as they listened to the loud stream of Terry relieving himself.

     "Mandy's making eggs," Terry informed them almost cheerfully for as miserable of a man as he was. Mickey knew he was still riding the high of being out of prison, as of yesterday. But Mickey also knew that Terry liked to fag-beat in the joint, which was probably nothing compared to what he'd do to Mickey.... Terry shuffled back out through Mickey's room. Before he made it out, he abruptly halted and turned to look at the two boys. Mickey stomach nearly fell out of his naked ass. Frozen with fear, he wasn't breathing. He's never been this scared in his life, his cock still hard and aching from Ian's hand. "Put some clothes on. You two look like a couple of fags!" Terry left, leaving a cloud of cigarette smoke. Mickey still hardly dared to move, except to look at Ian's disbelieving face at Terry's ignorance of the situation. The room was hot and smelled of sweat.

     "You need to go," Mickey finally muttered, hopping over Ian to his dresser. He refused to look at Ian.

...

**Ian**

     "Uh, okay," Ian stammered, scrambling to his pile of neglected clothing. His blood was running cold again, and he debated on whether to say anything to Mickey when something heavy hit the bed behind him. Kash's gun. A small wave of relief washed over him and he started toward Mickey with gratitude.

     "Kiss me, I'll cut your fuckin' tongue out" Mickey was back to full thug mode, leaving Ian to finish dressing.

    _Jesus, that was intense,_  Ian thought. _Mickey Milkovich is gay. Or at the very least into guys. He kind of initiated that whole thing, hadn't he? Why? Doesn't he hate me? Apparently not._

...

     Ian rolled his pencil between his fingers as he thought of Mickey for the thousandth time that day. He was in sitting in history class, only half-listening to the teacher talk about the ancient Greeks. He was still in awe over what had transpired early that morning, high from it, hardly daring to believe it was real. No fucking way Mandy's brother came onto him.

     Ian swallowed down the smile that crept over his lips as he recounted Mickey's fiery blue eyes. How his gaze had softened just before brushing Ian's hair from his face. Ian shut his eyes, trying to cling to the moment before they had been interrupted. The memory made him feel alive. He felt guilty for cheating on Kash, for even thinking that he needed to see Mickey again. Funnily enough at the time, Kash didn't cross his mind. No, he pushed those confusing thoughts away and struggled to refocus on the lesson.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey finds Ian to finish what they started the day before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter of Mickey struggling to identify his feelings about what's happened with Ian, but going for another encounter. I haven't found a fanfic that kinda fills in the gaps of what the show leaves out, but I wouldn't be surprised if it already exists. Feel free to let me know if this has already been done!

... CHAPTER 2

**Mickey**

     Mickey ran his tongue over his lips before bringing a fresh cigarette to them. _Gallagher_ , he thought, the flame from his lighter igniting both the Parliament and a vision of the redhead. He was walking home from Jenny Wright's house. He'd hit her up at lunch to see if she was down for a quick lay after school. He'd been wound up all day after that morning's encounter, and he needed to fuck the memory away. He didn't care who, he just needed to release, especially since he hadn't finished this morning.

     Mickey tried not to acknowledge the realization that he had never felt that hot with anyone before Ian. He needed to prove to himself he wasn't gay. Was he? He'd always wanted mess around, and there was that one time with that Frederick kid back when he was thirteen. Mickey closed his eyes and shook the thought from his head. He'd come quickly with Jenny, but only after he'd recalled Ian's firm grip. He was inwardly ashamed-- _wasn't the whole point of fucking that chick to forget about Gallagher? Jesus._ He took a long drag and vowed to beat someone up soon. He needed weed money so he could get properly stoned very soon.

     Mickey burst through the front door of the Milkovich house to find his brothers at the kitchen table. He started over to join them for a beer when Mandy bounded down the hall and into his face.

     "Jesus, Mandy, what?" he sputtered, his nearly finished cigarette still wedged between his teeth.

     "Did you beat up Ian?" She demanded, her blue eyes flashing with anger.

     "Who?"

     "Ian Gallagher?" Mandy prompted.

     "Oh, yeah. Kid came looking for it," Mickey looked away. It wasn't a lie.

     "Well leave him alone. He's my boyfriend now, and I can't have him over if you're going to keep terrorizing him."

     "Boyfriend? Please." Mickey shrugged his sister off and bee-lined for the refrigerator.

     "He's coming over this week to study, so stay away!" Mandy called after him before retreating to her room, slamming the door.

     "Hey," Mickey muttered to his brothers as he sat down to hear about their latest crime. He was annoyed. Was Gallagher fucking his sister too? Prick. Mickey thought. It was easier to push that stupid face from his mind, knowing the kid was some kind of sex deviant. _Deserves to get the shit kicked out of him,_ he thought, cracking the cold can open and taking a swig.

...

     The next day, Mickey was drunk. He'd ditched his afternoon classes to drink his beer, alone at home. He'd caught a glimpse of Ian in the hall that morning and it derailed his thoughts. The redhead had his bag slung over one shoulder, had noticed Mickey, and sent him that dumb lopsided smile. Mickey had scowled and looked away.

     Now he was hunched over a cigarette and an almost empty second can. It was four o'clock. Mickey was sure Ian would be at the Kash and Grab. He put out the cigarette in the full ashtray that was a permanent fixture on the kitchen table.

     Mickey grabbed his coat and scarf and set off down the street. Once he got to the store, he checked inside for any sign of the store's owners. The lady with the head scarf was nowhere to be seen, but he saw Kash working in the coolers. He wasn't sure Ian was even there until he realized Kash was talking to someone. He crossed the street to his normal hideout, to watch for an opportunity go in. _My lucky day,_ he thought, ten minutes later when when Kash emerged from the little shop. He flicked the cigarette he'd nearly finished and stood up, remembering his buzz from the afternoon beers. _Good_ , he thought. _Won't have to think too much._

     The store was almost empty, except for the woman Ian had just finished ringing up. He straightened up when he noticed the new customer was Mickey.

     "You got any slimjims in this shithole?" Mickey masqueraded, not able to hold eye contact with Ian, not sure of the response he'd receive. Ian looked around and locked the front door. Mickey watched, unable to resist giving Ian the once-over.

     "Yeah, in the back room," Ian said and led the way. Mickey licked his lips to keep from grinning. When they got to the back, Ian folded his arms and leaned against a shelf. "So what's up, Mickey?" he asked pseudo-casually.

     "Fuck you, Lindsey Lohan. If you're gonna be sending me googly fuck-me eyes at school, you're going to have to deliver. Left me with blue balls yesterday." Mickey retorted.

     "So you want to fuck me then?" Ian grinned. "Because I actually prefer to do the fucking."

     "Suck my dick, Gallagher," Mickey said irritably, not meaning it literally. but as an insult.

     "Okay," Ian crooned, approaching Mickey and grabbing him by his filthy old scarf. He used it to pull Mickey closer, and Mickey surprised himself by obliging. He pulled off his long coat and dropped it to the floor as Ian unwound the scarf. He could smell Ian--soap and weed. It sent a wave of electricity down his spine and into his groin. He steeled himself as his cock began to stiffen, his arms hanging by his sides. Ian watched his face as his fingers found Mickey's belt buckle. Mickey's eyebrow's raised impatiently at him as Ian's slim fingers worked his pants open.

     Mickey didn't feel drunk anymore, which was good because he forced himself to resist touching Ian. He wasn't a passionate lover by any means--it was always straight to business with the girls he fucked. But this was a new, different kind of arousal for him. He was surprised by how much he enjoyed Ian's initiative. He'd fucked pushy girls before and found their desperation pathetic, but he wanted this. That didn’t mean, though, that _Mickey_ needed to be handsy like some girl. 

     Ian knelt and almost cautiously slid Mickey's boxers down with his jeans, not wanting to spook the thug. He seemed to be satisfied with Mickey's full readiness. He firmly placed his hand flat against Mickey's pelvis, wrapping only his index finger and thumb around the base of the shaft. Mickey throbbed. He watched Ian close his eyes and take Mickey hungrily into his warm mouth. So warm, so wet. Mickey's eyes closed and his rocked hips gently to the Ian's rhythm. 

     "Mmm," Ian hummed in response. Mickey nearly moaned from the pleasurable vibration. Ian still had one hand on Mickey's pelvis, and brought the other hand up to Mickey's balls. He caressed them lightly with his fingertips and Mickey felt the skin there tighten. He'd never felt this high, despite having ingested, smoked, and snorted an array of drugs. He exhaled sharply, opening his eyes to see Ian's green ones looking up at him. Mickey was suddenly hit with a wave of self-consciousness and needed the intimacy to end quickly.

     Mickey grabbed Ian's head and sped up his hips. Ian gagged a little, surprised by the sudden speed, but obliged. Ian braced himself with his hands on Mickey's naked thighs and let the older boy finish hotly into his throat. Ian pulled off of Mickey's cock, sucking him clean as he went. Mickey was unnerved by the blissful ending and quickly reached down for the pants still around his ankles. Ian stood and wiped his mouth. He watched Mickey fumble with his belt, grab his coat and scarf from the floor, and spin on his heel. Ian followed.

     Mickey took long, even strides across the front end of the store and paused to let Ian unlock the door to let him out.

     “So, I guess this was like a booty call, huh?” Ian finally asked, obviously proud of how efficiently he’d seen to Mickey.

     “Whatever. See ya.” Mickey said, not looking at Ian as he wrapped his neck in the scarf and walked away.

     It wasn’t until he heard the jingle of the door to the store behind him that Mickey could breathe normally again. His knees were weak, and he was breathless as though he’d just run 5 miles from the cops. He reached into his coat pocket for a cigarette and lit up, now that he wasn’t holding all that air tight in his lungs. He tried to keep his cool in front of Ian, but he was still trembling from that amazing release. He’d rushed the end, and it left him wanting more.

     Mickey sucked in the cold air through the cigarette and thought back on girls he’d been with. He treated Ian no different in their two encounters than he’d treated any girl. He’d never really had a girlfriend, just fucked a few girls here and there, and some more regularly than the others. Why should Ian be any different? _It's not like I like the guy,_ Mickey told himself. But he knew it wasn’t true.

  
...

**Ian**

     Ian swept up the shop at the end of his shift that night, glad for the busy work so he could think about Mickey. He knew he should feel used, but honestly he hadn’t expected much. You really couldn’t wait for these south side guys to be in touch emotionally just because they’re gay. 


	3. Chapter 3

... CHAPTER 3

**Ian**

     "Hey," Mandy bounced along next to Ian after school the next day. She smiled up at him.

     "Hey," Ian smiled back, appreciating the warmth of Mandy's mischievous smile. He didn't have many friends, let alone many people with whom he'd entrusted his secret. It was always a relief to him to be able to relax--but now he'd had a new secret that he couldn't share with Mandy.

     "What's up? You ready to help me with my English paper?" she asked.

     "Sure," Ian chuckled, knowing that Mandy was probably going to have to help him more. “Hey, is your brother gonna be home?”

     “Which one?”

     “Mickey.”

     “Uh, I dunno, why? I told him to leave you alone, by the way, and that you were going to be over to study. Don’t be afraid of him, Ian.”

     “Oh. No, I’m not. I was just wondering. I think he asked Lip to write him another paper or something. So how did you do on the history quiz?” Ian steered the conversation into safer territory, disappointed that he might not see Mickey. They hadn’t talked since yesterday. Not that his fling with Mickey promised to be more than primally physical at this rate.

     “...what about you?” Mandy had answered his question, but he hardly heard her. “Oh, uh, I got a 79.” He managed to recover quickly.

     “So did I tell you what happened in home ec with that ugly bitch?” And Mandy was off on one of her stories, and Ian was grateful for the cover. When they reached the Milkovich house, Terry was back in the kitchen, sounding like he was trying to threaten someone on the phone. Ian tried to ignore it—he knew what it was like to have crazy parents.

     Ian and Mandy settled in, emptying their backpacks. He had to will away his nervous disappointment that Mickey was nowhere to be seen. He’d been longing to touch him again. He was sure that he’d successfully blown Mickey away in the back room of the store the day before, pun intended. He’d had lots of practice with Kash, and it turned him on to think he’d satisfied Mickey, who had come so quickly. He was full of hope that Mickey would want to continue their covert escapades.

     The front door opened. Ian’s heart leapt.

     “Douchebags,” came Mickey rudely with a belch. He went straight for his room and slammed the door behind him. And just like that, Ian was abuzz. He waited a few beats before excusing himself to the bathroom. Luckily, Mandy must’ve also thought it was a good time for a break, because she went to the kitchen to make them a snack.

     Ian approached Mickey’s room, gingerly opening the door.

     “Fuck do you want, Gallagher?” Mickey said, not quite with his usual harshness, but with a teasing lilt. Ian flashed him his boyish half-grin.

     “I, uh, just wanted to see if you’d help me with something.” Ian was already half-excited just being in Mickey’s room again.

     “Do I look like I wanna fuckin’ help you?" Mickey grumbled, going over to the coat he’d just hung up and pulled something out. He walked over to Ian. “Got somethin’ for ya.” He said quietly. He pressed a small bottle into Ian’s sternum, not moving his hand right away.

     Ian gulped, finding himself under Mickey’s touch and fiery gaze. He felt shocked by those blue eyes, but his lust drew his eyes down to Mickey’s lips. He didn’t want to push Mickey by kissing him, but noticed Mickey’s eyes were on his mouth, too. He could smell alcohol on Mickey’s breath.

     “Don’t be a fag, Gallagher.” Mickey said softly, removing his hand from Ian’s chest, leaving Ian to catch the item. He looked down at the bottle of Astroglide. He looked back up at Mickey. “Lifted it from the drug store today.”

     Ian didn’t hesitate. He tossed the lube to the bed, yanked off his layered shirts and reached for Mickey’s, grazing his pale torso with his fingertips. He noticed Mickey’s jaw was slack as his eyes trailed over at Ian’s taut skin over his developing muscles. Ian bit his lip to keep from smiling as they each worked their pants off. Ian stepped out of his shoes and pants and finally revealed his full, erect arousal to Mickey.

     Ian took encouragement in the way Mickey’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of him and grabbed Mickey by the hips. He spun Mickey around over the bed and slid Mickey’s boxers down. He poked into Mickey as he reached around him for the lube. “Have you done this before?” Ian whispered. Into Mickey’s ear. He could only see the side of his face from the angle, but Mickey looked nervous, which made Ian nervous. The older boy shook his head no.

     Ian took out a generous amount of lube and slicked his length with it. He took a little more for his fingers and reached into Mickey and circled his entrance. He felt Mickey’s knees buckle slightly from his touch, but Ian didn’t find any indication that Mickey wanted him to stop. His own cock throbbed with anticipation as he dipped a finger tip in and felt Mickey contract. He waited for Mickey’s muscles to relax before going any deeper. Ian worked at Mickey with his fingers for a couple minutes, his other hand resting on Mickey’s hip. Mickey hadn’t said anything, but Ian could tell he was giving in to the massage.

     Ian knew what he was doing; he had always topped with Kash, but this was so different. For one thing, he hadn’t been entirely sure that Mickey had intended to bottom. It was only by Mickey’s unusual lack of resistance that Ian found himself in control. However, he didn’t quite have the sense that he was the dominant one; he was on alert for any signs from Mickey to stop and back away. He’d been on edge when it came to the bully so recently that Ian’s own guard wasn’t fully down.

     “You gonna finger fuck me all day or what?” Mickey said from behind gritted teeth.

     “You ready?” Ian breathed. He lined up his cock and used his fingers to push his head in. He placed his hands on either of Mickey’s hips and deepened himself slightly. They both rocked slightly for the next few paces. Ian was thrown not only by how tight Mickey was, but how different from Kash he felt. Mickey pushed back, and Ian obliged the unspoken request for more. And they were off, panting and sighing, and trying not to grunt too loud. Ian knew he couldn’t completely let himself go; he needed to watch Mickey for any danger signals, and he didn’t dare give Mickey his full length on the first try. He didn’t want to hurt Mickey, trigger his anger.

     Ian was exhilarated by this new experience, and it wasn’t long before he felt himself approaching climax.

     “Mmm, Mickey!” He breathed out, and reached a hand around to Mickey’s cock. Mickey inhaled sharply, and Ian bit down on his shoulder. Ian caught a glimpse of Mickey’s face, eyes closed and facial muscles tensed in pleasure. The sight threw Ian over the edge. “I’m coming,” Ian whispered in Mickey’s ear. A small whimper escaped Mickey’s lips and Ian exploded. He crossed the finish with a few firm, but still shallow thrusts. “Sorry,” he said, for no reason in particular.

     Ian didn’t pull all the way out of Mickey, but continued to pump him from behind. Ian watched over Mickey’s shoulder, his lips pressed to his skin. It only took a few seconds before Mickey burst, reaching his hand in time to catch the hot stream. They stilled, hands touching over Mickey’s cock for just a second.

     Ian slowly detached himself from Mickey. Mickey didn’t say anything, or even look at Ian as he grabbed his pants with his empty hand and bee-lined for the bathroom. Ian waited awkwardly, needing to wash up. He could hear the sink running, but Mickey hadn’t closed the door. Ian decided to follow him in.

     Ian stood behind Mickey, watching his face in the smudged bathroom mirror. Ian wasn’t entirely offended that Mickey did not meet his eyes. In fact, he understood how new this must be for Mickey. He could be patient.

     Mickey left the bathroom immediately, still not looking at him. Ian accepted the silence, realizing it had to be better than a stream of annoyed, angry insults. When Ian had finished washing his own hands he came back to find Mickey laying on the bed, fully dressed, face hidden behind a magazine. Ian dressed quickly, watching Mickey ignore him the whole time.

     Ian approached the bed and placed his hand on Mickey’s shin. He leaned over the older boy’s magazine so he could see him properly. Mickey’s eyebrows shot up as he finally raised his bright eyes to meet Ian’s darker ones. Ian thought he looked a little scared, worried. 

     “Mickey, that was amazing,” Ian said slowly, his voice low and smooth. “ _You’re_ amazing.” Ian looked at his hand as he slid it up to Mickey’s inner thigh, just above his knee. Ian gave it a squeeze and turned to rejoin Mandy, knowing he’d been gone too long to stay.

     When Ian returned, luckily, Mandy already had her eyes glued to a video game, and therefore didn’t notice his post-sex flush or his unbuttoned flannel. He flopped down next to her and grabbed a controller when Mickey enetered the room. Again, Mickey didn’t look at him as he, too, dropped down on the couch, nabbing one of the pizza bagels Mandy had out, as well as the controller. This suited Ian just fine; wedged between the Milkovich siblings, neither one noticed his elated grin and sneaky glances at who he thought was his new boyfriend.

...

**Mickey**

     “I should go.”

     A couple hours later, Ian gathered his school books from the Milkovich coffee table. “It’s getting late.” Mickey could feel Ian’s eyes on him, but didn’t acknowledge that he’d spoken. He kept staring at the action show on the television.

     “Okay. See you tomorrow at lunch?” Mandy asked.

     “Uh, can’t. ROTC meeting, and then work after school. But I’ll catch you tomorrow in 5th period?” Ian slung his backpack onto one shoulder.

     “‘Kay, bye.” Mandy said, absentmindedly looking at her nails. Mickey caught Ian’s eyes for a second before Ian turned and let himself out.

     “Thanks for not beating up my boyfriend today, Mick.” Mandy said with a sarcastic lilt.

     “Whatever,” Mickey got up and went to his room, now dark with the early winter evening. He didn’t want to think. He wasn’t sure what to think. The afternoon didn’t really go the way he thought it would—he didn’t expect to be so submissive and to like it. But there was something more than physical that he enjoyed about it, and that’s what he didn’t want to think about.

     Mickey didn’t want to think of those sweet, puppy dog eyes that were capable of sending out x-rated stares. He didn’t want to think about those long fingers around his... and in his... places. He didn’t want to think of Ian’s naked body coming into the bathroom after sex today. Mickey flopped down on the bed and went to sleep instead of thinking about what Ian’s body would feel like if Ian were lying next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ian's having to be patient with Mickey and doing a great job. I wasn't sure about introducing full on relationship consummation this early, but the first season of _Shameless_ gives indication that the boys move quick!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 was really long, but I decided to chop off the end. So while this is dialogue-heavy, I wanted to reach into the depths of what these boys are feeling. (Hopefully it's successful!) I also think Mickey and Ian needed more interaction. Stick with this one, the payoff is in the next chapter!

... CHAPTER 4

**Mickey**

     Mickey woke up the next morning feeling stretched and sore. _Fuck,_ he thought, reaching for his cigarettes. He glanced at the dusty alarm clock on the table as he grabbed his lighter. 6:30. He was always a naturally early riser. Mickey shuffled into the bathroom, inhaling through the cigarette. He sat on the toilet, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face. _Gallagher_ , he thought, waking up. _He'd better be keeping his mouth shut._ Finishing his cigarette and his business, he turned on the shower.

     Mickey decided he wanted to see Ian today. He was unsure if they could fuck again today, due to the state of his swollen rectum. _There's always blowjobs,_ he smirked. But as he took a little extra care to lather his body today, he realized that he just wanted to be around Ian. Maybe they could have some beers together.

     Mickey took a little extra care today in selecting clothes that hadn't been already lying on the floor. He found a pullover sweater that was shoved into the back of a drawer. Mandy had helped him pick it from the thrift store for his last court date. And, well, just regular old jeans would have to do. _Not goin' to no ball or nothin'._ He thought.

     "Looking good, Mick. Court today?" Mandy asked teasingly over a pop tart when Mickey emerged from his bedroom a few minutes later.

     "Yeah, yeah, Punky Brewster. Tired of freezing my ass off is all. Just because you have that skank gene that keeps you warm in minimal clothing." Mickey quipped. Mandy rolled her eyes and left the room. Is _this too much?_ he wondered, doubting himself. _Fuuuuck._ He yanked off the sweater and retreated to his room. He tossed the sweater aside and grabbed a black hoodie to layer over his black band T-shirt, and his long winter coat. Mandy was at the front door, backpack on, zipping up her coat. She eyed Mickey’s wardrobe change but said nothing. They left the house together, walking in silence.

     Mickey let Mandy lead the way down the gray snow-lined street.

     “Hey, where you going?” He asked, when she made to cross the road not on the path to school.

     “Meeting Ian over there so we can walk together.” She said irritably. Mickey grunted in acknowledgment.

     “Hey, uh, you got a smoke? Left mine.” He stalled, making an excuse to linger until Ian showed up. Mandy reached into the front pocket of her backpack and handed him a slim cigarette out of a white and silver pack. "Ultra lights?" He sneered but took it and lit up. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

     "Are you going to walk with us?" Mandy looked it him somewhat incredulously, one eyebrow raised.

     "Well what the fuck is going on with this Gallagher kid? One minute you want us to bash his face, the next you're bringing him over to the house." Mickey scrambled for an excuse. "I don't trust him."

     "Aw, Mick, you do care!" Mandy reached out a gloved hand to touch his cheek in a sarcastic gesture. Mickey batted her hand away.

     "Cut it out, asshole," he countered. Mandy cackled as a flash of red caught Mickey's eye. Ian bounded toward them, cheeks flushed with the stinging cold.

     "Hey, Mandy. Mickey." Ian's eyes glittered as they met Mickey's, and Mickey frowned in response.

     "Can we go now?" Mickey asked impatiently and started off toward the school. He walked a few paces ahead of them so he wouldn't have to meet Ian's eyes again. He felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, hearing Mandy and Ian chatter away about kids and classes he didn't care about. What was he doing? This was dumb, to try and position himself to run into Ian. _Fuckin' pansy,_ he thought. He reached the school first, and found a place to skulk near the entry staircase. He watched Ian and Mandy chat as they walked up. He was able to catch Ian's eye with a meaningful look. Ian said something to Mandy and made his way toward Mickey.

     "You wanna get together later, Gallagher?" He asked, his voice rough and low.

     "I have work til seven, and I don't think I'll be alone today."

     "What about after? You can meet me under the El."

     "It's cold."

     "Or not, I don't really give a fuck," Mickey's eyebrows shot up in annoyance.

     "I-I'll be there," Ian finally agreed.

     "See you then, princess."

...

**Ian**

     Ian Ian shoved his work apron into his backpack and grabbed his coat. He was anxious to leave work. Things had been awkward with Kash ever since Linda had found out about them. He was weirded out by the idea of Kash fucking his wife, and it bothered him that it bothered him. Then, add Mickey to the mix, and Ian felt overloaded with personal drama.

     Ian was glad to be seeing Mickey, because the thrill took his mind off of the internal conflict he felt. He wondered what Mickey wanted--meeting under the El to hookup wasn't exactly a good idea, out in the open.

     "See ya," Ian called over his shoulder to Kash as he hastily left the store, not waiting for a response. Ian felt a stab of guilt, but quickly turned his thoughts to avoid it. Maybe Mickey would take him somewhere to fool around. Ian felt wound up; maybe he should've just gone home to smoke a joint with Lip.

     It was dark as Ian made his way into the neighborhood. He approached the section under the bridge where people usually hung out, scanning for Mickey. He heard a whistle and looked over to find Mickey sitting on the back of an old, discarded couch.

     "Pull up a seat, Gallagher," Mickey handed him a can of beer.

     "Thanks," Ian gratefully accepted it, glad to have something to take the edge off his nerves. he set his backpack down and perched on the arm of the couch farthest from where Mickey sat, not quite facing him.

     "You fucking my sister?" Mickey shot out accusingly, and Ian could tell the idea had bothered Mickey.

     "No, Mickey. I'm gay." Ian said quietly. "She knows." He chased his answer with a deep drink from the cold can.

     "So you been with other dudes?"

     "Yeah," Ian answered. "I actually have a, uh, boyfriend. Been seeing him for a while." Ian glanced at Mickey, who looked angry at the revelation. "It hasn't been going very well lately, though," he added.

     "Hm," Mickey responded. "Who?"

     "I don't think I should say. He's not exactly out." Ian figured he at least owed Kash his discretion. Surprisingly, Mickey accepted this.

     "So you're not going to go running your mouth about me, then?"

     "Of course not." Ian took another long drink. There was silence for a minute. "So what about you?"

     "What about me?" Mickey asked defensively. He took snapped another beer out of the six pack ring.

     "How long have you--?"

     "I'm not gay." Mickey interrupted. Ian nodded, accepting that he wasn't going to get a better answer. They were quiet again. Ian drained the can, not knowing what to say. "You drank that fast. Guess you live up to your name, Gallagher." Mickey commented, handing Ian the six pack. Ian frowned, reminded of his alcoholic father, Frank, but took another beer anyway.

     "I'm not like him," he said quietly.

     "Who?"

     "My dad." Ian shifted uncomfortably. "He's an asshole," Ian tried to push out the memory of Frank head butting him in the face just weeks ago.

     "Yeah, mine too." Mickey said softly.

     "I'm leaving first chance I get. Army," Ian said, not looking up from the beer in his hands.

     "I thought they didn't take queers?"

     "Don't ask, don't tell," Ian grumbled. He was falling into a bad mood, talking about what plagued him. He reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette. "You got a light?" Mickey stood up and jumped off the couch. He tossed Ian a lighter and stretched. Ian lit up and took a long pull as Mickey walked to stand in front of him. He took the lighter and the cigarette from Ian. Ian looked up into Mickey's face and they stopped for a minute. Ian felt the urge to be close to the Milkovich boy. The slight buzz spurred him to take his chance, so he moved forward and landed a kiss on Mickey's lips once he'd lowered the cigarette.

     "The fuck, Gallagher?!" Mickey sputtered, shoving Ian in the chest. Ian rolled his eyes, and one-handedly shoved Mickey back and snatched his cigarette from Mickey’s fingers.

     "Whatever, Mickey," Ian said. "Thanks for the beer." He stuck the cigarette between his teeth and picked up his backpack, turning to leave.

     "Wait," Mickey said exasperatedly. Ian halted but only half-turned back to look at Mickey.

     "What?"

     "I don't know. Just, wait." He returned to his spot up on the back of the couch. "I just, I can't get caught. My dad, he--" Mickey leaned over his lap, burying his face in his palms. Ian exhaled.

     "Okay. I get it." Ian dropped his backpack and stepped up to sit next to Mickey.

     "Do you, though? I think he'd kill me. He caught me once, with a magazine..." Mickey trailed off, looking away from Ian, embarrassed. Ian nudged Mickey and handed him the cigarette. Mickey accepted it. "He, uh, broke my arm, busted my face. I was like, eleven." Mickey took a drag. Ian's heart panged for him. He nodded.

     "It's okay, Mick," He said, barely over a whisper. "You don't have to worry with me. I won't say anything. Not even to Mandy." He nudged Mickey's knee with his own. Mickey returned the pressure.

     "Thanks, Ian," He handed back the rest of the cigarette. Ian's chest fluttered at the sound of his name. Mickey hadn't called him by that before. They sat a little while longer, side by side, finishing their beers, knees touching. No one looking on could suspect anything more about the two boys. Ian relished the bittersweet moment with his former bully.

     "I should get going soon," Ian said softly.

     "Me too. Fuckin' cold." Mickey turned his head to look at Ian. They locked eyes again, and Ian's breath caught.

     "I'm closing the store alone tomorrow night. I go in at five." Ian allowed himself a smile at last. "You could stop by." Mickey punched him lightly in the arm and stood up.

     "See you, Gallagher." He walked off in the direction of the Milkovich house. Ian's eyes followed him for a minute, buzzing from more than the cheap beer. He sighed and stood up to go, looking forward to that joint.

...

     Ian rose extra early the next day, planning to pick Mandy up from her house (and to maybe run into Mickey), head slightly heavy from the couple of beers and the joint he shared with Lip the night before. He went downstairs to start some coffee and do his push-ups in the living room so as not to wake the other Gallaghers. He reflected on his decision last night not to tell Lip about Mickey--he wanted to, but it was always so hard with guys who weren't out. Plus, Lip wasn't automatically accepting at first of hearing about Kash.

     Not that Ian was necessarily out, either. Roger Spikey, Kash, Lip, Linda, Mandy, and now Mickey. Ian paused between push-ups, a twist of paranoia in his stomach at the realization that his own secret was spreading like wildfire. He didn't blame Mickey for being so guarded. Terry Milkovich was much more menacing than Frank Gallagher. As he passed his first hundred push-ups, he wondered where things were going with Mickey. The guy was like a loose cannon, so he wasn't sure he could expect anything. He supposed there was no point in speculating--he'd just have to take it as it came, enjoy what he was given. He deftly finished the second hundred and started in on sit-ups when Fiona came down the stairs in leggings and a sweater.

     "Hey, you're up early." Fiona stepped around Ian as he hooked his feet under the counter to anchor himself. 

     "Lots to do," he grunted between reps. 

     "You're fifteen, kiddo." Fiona smiled as she poured herself a mug of coffee. "Thanks for coffee. I'll get breakfast going in a sec. So, anything special goin' on in your busy day?"

     "Maybe, I dunno. Just someone I wanna see." Ian panted. 

     "Oh, you're seeing someone?" Fiona pressed, smiling encouragingly. 

     "It's complicated, not sure."

     "Complicated. Hm, I know how that goes." Ian knew she was thinking about Steve as she was quiet for a few moments. This is how he liked Fiona best, when they were one-on-one. Early in the day, she had yet to be caught up in the whirlwind that was her life. Ian finished his sit-ups and rose. "Well, just know you can always talk to me, okay?" she ruffled his sweaty hair. "Ew. Shower. Please, " she laughed, wiping her hand on his shirt. He grinned.

     "Thanks, Fi."

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wanna be your favorite boy, I wanna be the one that makes your day, the one you think about as you lie awake. I can't wait to be your number one. I'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine, but I still wanna break your heart and make you cry." - "Best Friend," Rex Orange County

... Chapter 5

**Ian**      

     A cold shower later (Lip and Debbie had beaten him to the hot water), Ian was bundling up to head over to Mandy's. He played out several ideal scenarios for making an excuse to see and talk to Mickey during his cold walk. He climbed up the steps to the porch and lifted his hand to knock when the front door opened. It was Terry.

     "What do you want?" Terry barked, taken by surprise.

     "Uh, here to pick up Mandy so we can walk to school."

     "What's your name?"

     "Ian. Gallagher, sir."

     "Gallagher, eh? Well you keep your hands off my daughter, if you know what's good for you. I won't have you knocking her up--the world doesn't need another Gallagher." he growled.

     "Yes, sir." Ian said, mouth dry.

     "I mean it. I won't hesitate to kick your ass if I find out you've been sticking your tiny prick in my kid!"

     "N-no, sir." Ian stammered, hardly daring to breathe.

     "Good." Terry Milkovich left, slamming the door behind him, leaving a frozen Ian standing dumbly on the porch. Ian exhaled and raised a fist to knock again when the door opened a second time. Mickey answered the door in a sleeveless band t-shirt and boxers, hair wet.

     "Gallagher? Get in here!" he hissed.

     "Hi."

     "What do you want?"

     "Just thought I'd pick up Mandy today. It's a nice morning." Ian said, his relief at Terry leaving had his voice sounding overly cheerful.

     "Goddammit. I thought you said I don't have to worry about you. Next morning you're talking to my dad?" Mickey looked stressed. "You're early. I don't even think Mandy's up yet."

     "Oh." Ian looked down. "Well... you busy?" he raised only his eyes to look mischievously at Mickey through the red fringe.

     "Look, it's not really a good idea to do this here." Mickey said in a low voice.

     "Okay. I guess I can go. Sorry, I just thought..." Ian trailed off and sighed. At least he tried.

     "Yeah, yeah, let's go. Wait outside, give me a minute." Ian grinned and stepped back into the frigid morning air. He couldn't wait for the weather to warm up--he preferred to jog when he couldn't see his breath; his winter training was far too irregular. 

      A few minutes later, Mickey emerged, layered up for the chill morning. He slipped an unlit cigarette in his mouth and shoved his un-gloved hands in his pockets.

     "I told Mandy you came by but left because she wasn't ready," Mickey said, cigarette bouncing with his words.

     "Keeping me all to yourself, huh?" Ian joked and laughed when Mickey gave him a stern look. "I'm just kidding. I was hoping to run into you. I feel bad for ditching Mandy, though."

     "You snooze, you lose," Mickey cracked.

     "I-I liked hanging out last night. Just talking, you know." Ian said more seriously.

     "Mmhmm." Mickey said dismissively.

     "I like you, Mickey," Ian dared. The Milkovich boy's eyes narrowed as he fixed Ian with another look. He finally lit his cigarette and took a drag.

     "Why do you want me to cut your fucking tongue out? Stop it with that shit. Thought you had a boyfriend anyway." Ian's chest tightened at Mickey's gruff words. Approaching their high school, Mickey led the way to the frozen athletic fields.

     "So you don't like me," Ian stated. "I guess that's fine. Might as well be honest about this fuck buddy situation." He wasn't sure he meant the part about it being fine. He'd prefer to be screwing someone who gave a shit, didn't he? Maybe not.

     "I didn't say that. Don't put fuckin' words in my mouth," Mickey said quietly, heading for the space under the bleachers.

     "Am I just supposed to guess then?" Ian couldn't help but push the issue, but he knew he risked Mickey snapping at him.

     "Look. I want to keep seeing you. But I don't do fuckin' 'relationships.' I never have. Not gonna start now," Mickey said impatiently, resting against a support beam. Ian looked away, not bothering to conceal his disappointment.

     "Fine, whatever." Ian half-turned, feeling like he needed to go be alone with his rejection.

     "I said I want to keep seeing you. You make me feel good. Like, more than sex stuff. It's like a relief when you're around," Mickey manged to force these works out, but it sounded physically difficult for him to do so. The thug shifted uncomfortably. "Shit, I don't know what I'm fuckin' saying. Not making any goddamn sense."

     "No, actually," Ian watched Mickey's eyes dance around meeting his. "I get it." He wanted to reach out and touch Mickey. Anywhere. Hold his hand, slide his arms around his shoulders. Kiss his cheek. He settled for trailing his eyes over the older boy.

     "Are you eye-fucking me right now? Mentally undressing me or some shit?" Mickey accused with a smirk. Ian laughed.

     "Guilty," he shrugged. Mickey tossed his finished cigarette.

     "Too much talking lately. I need to shut you up. C'mon, freckles." Ian pursed his lips, fighting a smile at Mickey's silly name-calling. Ian followed as Mickey led the way to the school's entrance.

     The building was only just starting to stir with teachers and early students. They still had a half hour before the first bell. Ian stayed a couple paces behind Mickey, planning excuses in case they were stopped. He watched Mickey's tough swagger, almost graceful in his quiet swiftness. Mickey led the way into the wing what was under construction for asbestos removal, which didn't deter students sneaking off to smoke or fuck. Mickey pushed into a dark classroom with desks jutted to the side along one wall. He waited for Ian to catch up and then guided him against a wall with a gentle push.

     Ian's pulse quickened and he felt an ache in his groin. Overcome with a hungry lust, he dropped his coat with his backpack and spun Mickey so the older boy's back was against the wall instead. He planted his hands on the wall on either side of Mickey's shoulders, pinning him. He watched an expression of surprise flicker and disappear from Mickey's face, lips parted with lustful anticipation. His eyelids drooped as his blue irises fell to Ian's lips.

     Ian kissed him roughly and drank the energy that seemed to come from Mickey's mouth. He reached his tongue to taste Mickey's mouth and Mickey's hands flew up to grip Ian's shoulders. Mickey's tongue responded once, then retreated as he bit down onto Ian's lower lip. Ian's cock surged with arousal, even as Mickey broke the kiss, pushing him off. Ian watched him for a beat as Mickey shrugged his coat off, and then reached to grab Mickey's crotch through his jeans, needing to feel him. He found that Mickey was hard too, and began to work at Mickey's belt, his zipper.

     Mickey's head dropped back as Ian knelt before him, grasping his hips and enveloping Mickey's cock with his warm mouth. Ian relished the taste and scent of Mickey's skin. He bobbed back and forth with urgency, using his hand to create more friction, and slurping the excess wetness from his salivation.

     Ian was rock hard, taking deep pleasure from Mickey's sighs, the occasional "ah," escaping the older boy's throat. Mickey's fingers found Ian's hair, gently tugging. Ian felt the pull of his own orgasm and fought to resist the release into his pants.

     "Fuck, I'm coming," Mickey whispered before long. Ian took Mickey's entire length and let him explode into his throat. "Fuck," Mickey said again, backing up to pull his pants back up.

     "Yeah, that was hot. Nearly got me, too." Ian said, wiping his mouth, looking down at the clothed rod protruding from his lower half. "Will you...?" Mickey hesitated at the unspoken request.

     "I ain't, uh, I mean," Mickey stammered. Ian watched him with a smile, patiently waiting the response. "Fuck, come here." Mickey yanked Ian by the waistband and undid the pants Ian's cock was straining against. Mickey slid Ian's jeans down and followed them to the floor. He wrapped his fist around Ian's length and pumped. Ian's gaze softened as he watched Mickey.

     "I'm not going to be long," Ian informed Mickey, letting his eyes continue to fall closed, blissed out. Mickey timidly took Ian's head into this mouth, applying gently suction. "Oof," Ian breathed, his body slackening. Mickey worked up slowly to taking Ian completely. He finally established the deep rhythm but it was gentle, far too gentle for Ian's desire. "Are you teasing me?" He opened one eye to peek down at Mickey.

     "Maybe. Close your fuckin' eyes." Ian did as he was told and Mickey switched back to pumping with his hand. Before Ian could regret his decision to interrupt Mickey, he felt a warm, gentle suction on one of his testicles.

     "Oh god," he moaned as Mickey released it with a soft pop. Mickey took the other side and did the same. Mickey resumed his suction on Ian's cock, quickening the pace now. That was all it took as Ian shot into Mickey's mouth.

     "Arfghh!" Mickey pulled away. "'uck, 'hat's disgusting!" He swallowed with a grimace. "Eat some fucking fruit, Gallagher!" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

     "Will do, Mick. As long as you do that again, anything. That was really good."

     "I never done that before. Saw that shit in a porno, though." Mickey fought a proud smile. Ian grinned as the first bell rang out. They boys gathered their belongings, Mickey heading out in long strides. "Later, red."

...

     "Thanks for waiting for me, asshole." Mandy said, catching up to Ian in the hall after the lunch bell rang later that day. She punched his arm.

     "Sorry, I shouldn't have stopped by so early. Your dad nearly strangled me. Didn't want to wait around for him to take back his decision not to." Ian lied.

     "You just can't please the Milkovich men, can you?" Mandy teased. Ian swallowed a secretive smile knowing how wrong she was. “So are you still seeing that guy? Can you tell me who it is yet? What’s he like?” Mandy pelted Ian with questions. He obviously couldn’t even risk giving her a hint, or Mickey’d be chopping his dick off instead if playing with it. He sighed.

     “I don’t think you know him. Met him at work.” Ian lied. “But he’s younger than Kash. Completely different, actually.” He got quiet and let his thoughts drift to Mickey.

     “Wow,” Mandy commented. “I’m going to need your dating tips in the future. When you’re not my pretend boyfriend anymore, of course.” She hooked her arm through his and happily chatted the rest away to the cafeteria.

...

     Ian walked home that afternoon, still replaying the morning encounter with Mickey. He was taking a lunch break from his closing shift at the Kash and Grab. With Linda now trying to force Kash into getting her pregnant, he was left to tend to the store alone a lot. So he sneaked a longer break than usual. He needed a distraction, and his family was good at keeping his attention busy. He came home to watch _Cosmos_ with the Gallagher clan, V., and Steve. They were the happiest together like this. No asshole parents. He was proud of Fiona for what she did to keep the siblings tight. He relaxed among his family, minus Debbie, who burst through the front door with an expression of worry on her sweet face.

     "She's at Sheila's," Debbie said. "Monica."

     Ian's blood ran cold at his mother's name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've obviously been listing to R.O.C. a lot, as the title of this fanfic is based off his other song, "Sunflower." I think the bittersweet lyrics suit our boys. 
> 
> Also, I know it's mentioned later that Mickey is "afraid" to kiss Ian, but I don't think that means that they had never kissed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian runs to Mickey for comfort as he is confronted by internal heartache.

... Chapter 6

**Mickey**

     Terry was in a bad mood. 

     Mickey's brother, Iggy was supposed to move some guns that he'd sold to some white gang, and they backed out at the last second because Iggy pissed them off. Something about both parties thinking the other was trying to rip them off. So for two days, Terry had been bitching about anything and everything, on top of being on the verge of blowing Iggy's head off with one of the unsold guns. 

     Mickey was talking with Iggy to see if the situation was fixable, but trying not to let Terry hear--reminding him would only make him more mad. They were brainstorming other people to sell to when there was a knock at the door. Mickey winced, hoping the gang hadn't come to their house. The knocking turned to pounding as Mickey approached the door. 

     "What the fuck!" He found Ian at the doorstep, face flushed and anxious. 

     "I need to see you," Ian practically begged.

     "Not. A good. Time." 

     "I-I don't know where else to go." 

     "I thought you were working today," Mickey's annoyance transformed into concern at Ian's fearful face.  

     "Uh, Linda's going to have my ass. I'm supposed to be there now." Jeez. something fucked must've happened. Mickey was thrown by Ian's current state. He looked so pathetic, scared. _Shit_. He hoped he didn't have to beat someone up. 

     "I'll meet you there in twenty." Probably better to send Ian to work, get normalized. Jesus, what a day. He'd planned on dropping by later to see Ian anyway. He'd donned that damn pullover sweater in another attempt at looking nice. Mickey closed the door and returned to the living room where Iggy was running his hands through his filthy hair.

     "Who was that?" Iggy asked. 

     "Nobody. Look, just don't fucking talk to anyone, okay? Don't make shit worse. Lay low--we don't need the skinheads breaking in to steal the guns and carve fucking swastikas onto our foreheads. I gotta go take care of something." Mickey popped a fresh cigarette into his mouth and started out toward the Kash and Grab. 

     Mickey craved a beer. He definitely needed to get fucked up that night. He walked briskly to the pace of his anxiety and approached the store. No sign of the owners. He entered, finding Ian behind the register counter studying his own clasped hands, shoulders hunched. 

     "You alone?" Mickey asked in a low voice. Ian nodded. "You okay? Do I gotta hurt somebody?" 

     "It's my mom, Monica. She's back." Ian said in a strained voice. 

     "Okay. So what the fuck's the problem?" Mickey demanded, not catching on. 

     "She abandoned us. She's always fucking on drugs. Sleeps for days at a time. She and Frank beat each other up. She changes her number so we can't call. Doesn't want anything from us until she's in trouble and she needs us. She--" Ian choked back a sob. 

     "Okay, just stop." Mickey said firmly, asserting control. He knew all too well about absent, abusive, addict parents. He didn't consider himself great at it, but he had plenty of practice comforting his younger sister when shit got bad. "Come on. Can we talk somewhere?" Ian nodded again, eyes rimmed red. Mickey's forehead creased with pity as he watched Ian sadly lock the front door to the store. He followed Ian to the shop's back room. Ian leaned against a wire soda rack. 

     "I just-- and my sister Debbie said that Fiona's moving out with her boyfriend, which Fiona didn't deny. I just don't know what to do. I need to get out on my own, but I can't even enlist for three more years--" Mickey watched him as Ian went on, hands waving as he spoke. He's starting to freak out. 

     "Ian. Look at me." Ian stopped and dropped his hands. Mickey moved closer to face Ian, noticing Ian's wet cheeks. "Breathe. Don't cry." Ian dropped his head and wiped his eyes with his fingers. 

     Mickey reached out and gripped Ian's upper arms with his hands and squeezed. He inched his tattooed hands up Ian's arms until he reached his shoulders, kneading a firm massage along the way. He was grateful Ian's head was still drooped, so he didn't watch him as he worked Ian's slim, hard frame. Mickey got closer to work circles on the sides of Ian's neck with his thumbs, and Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey's waist. Mickey held the back of Ian's neck with, surprised at how sweet his skin smelled. He inhaled and closed his eyes. 

     They held each other for a minute, before Ian reached up and took Mickey's jaw with his fingertips, backing up so he could look at Mickey. Then he leaned forward again and placed his lips gently on top of Mickey's in a soft, closed-mouthed kiss. 

     Mickey could feel Ian's damp cheeks touching his own face. And he felt Ian's torso press against his own, he felt Ian's stiffness under this clothes against Mickey's hip. 

     "Ian," Mickey breathed, breaking the kiss. 

     "I need you. Can I have you?" Ian pleaded with a scratchy whisper in Mickey's ear. Mickey nodded both boys fumbled at their belts. It didn't take for Ian long to get naked--in his haste, he left Mickey's sweater on. Mickey turned his back to Ian, but reached behind him for Ian's erection. Ian spit onto his fingers to warm Mickey up. It was a quick, rough preparation before Ian unceremoniously shoved inside. 

     Mickey groaned, half from the friction, half from the thrill of Ian filling him. He grasped the rack to brace himself against Ian who was thrusting hard, deeply, impatiently. They grunted and panted together, Mickey giving fully into Ian’s urgency. He felt pulled closer to Ian emotionally, and it seemed scratch an itch he didn’t realize he had. 

     Ian clasped his hand around Mickey’s and lowered his mouth to where Mickey’s neck met his shoulders. Mickey felt Ian graze the skin with his lips, and as his arousal grew, lips turned to teeth. nibbling and sucking. Mickey closed his eyes, drinking in the redhead's attention. Ian's whiskery face turned him on beyond belief, and it wasn't long before he approached the verge of climax as Ian pushed into him with his passion, his fear, his anger. 

     Suddenly, Ian stopped and pulled away. Mickey turned and saw Ian looking at the doorway of the backroom, where stood Kash. 

     "The fuck!" Mickey was about to be there for the awkward encounter. He yanked his pants off and shoved past Kash, who was gaping at Ian in shock. Mickey fumbled with the lock on the front door to the store and tore off home. He felt feverish from the mixture of the cold air and the flustered heat he was radiating. He was fucking scared and angry. Not a good combination.

     Mickey only slowed down when he reached the sidewalk a few houses down from his own. He tried to steady his breath as he entered the yard. 

     "Where the fuck you been?" Iggy asked when Mickey walked in to the Milkovich house. 

     "Don't worry 'bout it," Mickey muttered on his way to his room. He locked the door once inside, found his cigarettes, and dropped into the bed. He perched on the edge as he lit up and dropped his head into his hands. 


	7. Chapter 7

... Chapter 7

  **Mickey**

    _Fuck,_  Mickey thought. He was going to have to silence Kash. _Do I kill him?_

     Before he could contemplate that much further, a knock came at the door.

     "What?" Mickey rose, and Mandy stepped in.

     "Ian's on the phone, and he asked for you. And you look crazy right now. What the fuck's going on, Mickey?" She looked half worried, half angry.

     "Can you just butt out right now and let me deal with this?" Mickey asked in an urgent whisper. He pushed past her to use the corded phone in her room. He didn't bother to close the door behind him--he knew Mandy would listen at the door anyway. She leaned against the door-frame, eyes wide. He plopped down on her bed, back to her. "What do you want, Gallagher?" Mickey answered, roughly.

     "Hey. I'm sorry about earlier. I just want to tell you that you don't have to worry about Kash. He's not going to tell anyone. Remember when I told you I was seeing someone?" Ian said all this very quickly in a low voice in Mickey's ear. Mickey realized where Ian was going with this. Kash was the guy Ian was fucking. He felt somewhat relieved, but now jealously replaced the fear of being outed.

     "Yeah, okay, I think I got it, Gallagher. I'm still going to need to deal with him though." Mickey refused to let his voice soften while his sister was listening.

     "Mickey, don't. Please don't hurt him. I won't be with him again. I'll do whatever. He's got a family, and I don't want to see you in trouble." Ian pleaded.

     "I gotta fuckin' go." Mickey hung up. He glared at Mandy as he stood and turned to go. He grabbed his coat and headed out into the darkening night. It got colder as Mickey made his way down the street toward the convenience store. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to say to Kash, or even Ian, for that matter.

 _Why should I even keep fucking with this kid?_ Mickey wondered, not sure if it was even worth it at this point. Couldn't he get head anywhere? Well, maybe, but not quite from anyone. And apart from being conveniently accessible as Mandy's friend, or "boyfriend, or whatever he was, Mickey was sure he could trust Ian.

     Mickey considered Ian for a moment. His obvious features; the dark shade of red of his har, the bright, green eyes. Every one of those goddamn freckles that dotted his white skin like stars in a goddamn sky. _Jesus, I'm getting soft_ , Mickey thought, but progressed to let his mind stretch toward Ian, who Mickey perceived as sensitive, but could throw a punch. He was quick and funny. He was responsible, seemed older than he was. Being toughened by shitty parents will teach you to grow up, Mickey understood too well. He was also experienced, far more so than Mickey, it seemed, even if it wasn't with girls.

     No, Mickey knew what he wanted, at least for now, and it was Ian. He felt a new claim to him now. Hadn't Ian said on the phone that he'd stop seeing Kash? Mickey assumed that this also meant anyone else, too. He didn't know how he felt about that. Like he'd told Ian days ago, Mickey didn't do exclusive relationships, or hadn't in the past. And if he was to be someone's boyfriend, would it really be another boy's? _It's too much to risk, not worth anyone finding out._ Mickey pushed away the flood of thoughts from his mind as he reached the door of the Kash and Grab.

     Mickey didn't see Ian, but Kash was just inside, back turned.

     "Fuckin' _right_ you keep your mouth shut," Mickey threatened, when Kash failed to acknowledge him. He reached for a candy bar and opened it, just to further intimidate the store owner. "You'd better _keep_ it shut." Kash said nothing as he made his way behind the counter. "You hear me?"

     "Put the candy back, Mickey," Kash requested calmly, his brows furrowed at Mickey. This only prompted the thug to tear open the wrapper and shove a bite into his mouth. 

     "Mm, that's sweet." Mickey taunted him with a smile. "I like 'em sweet. But then, uh, so do you, huh?" Mickey chuckled at his reference to Ian as the storekeeper turned his back. He might as well mark his territory at this point. They might not be exclusive, but Mickey wanted Kash to know he wasn't going to share Ian with him. He'd steal Ian, just like he'd stolen countless items from this store. That's just how it worked in this neighborhood. Take, or be taken from. Mickey turned to search for Ian. 

     "Put it back. Now," Kash warned. Mickey didn't see Kash pull the gun out and slowly extend the aim. Mickey only heard the gun fire, a glass jar exploding on the shelf before him.

     "Fuck!" Mickey gasped, flinching. He was startled by Kash's newfound courage. He ducked as Kash fired again.

     "Kash, what are you doing!" Mickey heard Ian's voice come from the back of the store, entering Mickey's peripheral vision.

     "It's a fuckin' Snickers bar!" Mickey tried to protest in a voice that was suddenly too high. Kash sent out a final shot, and Mickey felt a sharp, white-hot pain in his right leg, the force pushing him back and down to the floor with surprise. "Fuck!" he let out a strangled cry.

     "Holy shit!" Ian looked from Mickey to Kash, clearly with no idea what to do. 

     "Jesus Chri--gah!" Mickey gulped, trying to catch his breath. Ian knelt to check on Mickey. 

     "You okay?" Ian asked, searching Mickey for any other wounds. He glanced at Mickey's thigh, which, with relief, they both realized wasn't a fatal injury. Ian grabbed Mickey's face. "Hey, hey," Ian tried to get Mickey's attention, but Mickey struggled to look past him at Kash, making sure he wasn't still under attack. "Listen to me--" Ian's voice was a jumble of sounds.

     "You fuckin' suck!" Mickey spat out, Ian still clutching at him. 

     "...look at me," Ian was saying at his side. "Kash, call 911!" Ian demanded, putting pressure on Mickey's leg with a cleaning rag he whipped out of his apron. Finally, Kash responded to obey Ian. Ian turned to Mickey. "I'm so sorry Mickey. You're okay. Okay?" Ian's eyes were wide and manic with the chaos. "Can you hold this?" Ian grabbed Mickey's hands and placed them under his own to keep the pressure. Mickey couldn't say anything, but just watched Ian.

     Mickey was starting to realize the trouble he was in. He _had_ taken the fucking candy. He _had_ stolen from the store before. He was _probably_ going to get charged with something, and his dad was bound to be called. In the unlikely event that Terry _did_ show up for his son, Mickey did not want Ian in the mix. He felt... guilty? No, that wasn't quite it. Ashamed, maybe. Deflated.

     Mickey looked at Ian and for one second allowed himself to admit that a balloon of bright yellow happiness had grown inside of him. He felt hope where Ian was involved. Ian had brought him a new kind of satisfaction that both fed and hungered him at the same time. Mickey didn't have to sacrifice any part of himself to receive all the new light that Ian had sparked in Mickey's life. Not if he didn't want to. And he wanted to. 

     When Ian had come pounding on his door earlier that afternoon, Mickey felt... concern. He wanted to rid Ian's freckled face of the worry that shadowed it and replace it with the goofy, lopsided smile. 

     Mickey closed those feelings off.  _Look at this fucking mess,_ he thought. He just got shot in the fucking leg over this kid, because one person knew. Maybe Kash was the wrong person to know, but then again, so was Terry. Terry was infinitely more vicious than the soft-spoken family man talking to the 911 operator. 

     "You're not, like, going into shock, are you?" Ian asked worriedly. Mickey shook his head no.

     "Get out of here. Just go." Mickey grumbled, wanting to be back in control of the situation.

     "No, I can help. I can--"

     "No you fucking can't, Ian. I gotta deal with this. The less you're involved, the better," Mickey as calmly as he could through gritted teeth. His eyes pleaded with Ian's. He couldn't stand it if Ian had to watch him get scolded by the police or his dad. Mickey had no idea if he'd be taken in an ambulance or handcuffs. He felt very lonely as Ian set his jaw and nodded. 

     "Okay, Mickey. Just... I'll ask Mandy how you're doing, okay?" 

     "Fine." Mickey agreed. As Ian stood to leave, Mickey spat out: " 'M sorry." 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't too tedious. Let me know if this is something you want to stick with, because I'm getting to the end of what I had pre-written, so I'll have to catch back up. We're also coming to a point where Mickey and Ian are separated, which I want to go into, but am also anxious to write their reunion.


	8. Chapter 8

... Chapter 8

**Ian**

     Ian jogged home from the store, feeling torn between wanting to stay and keep peace between Kash and Mickey, and feeling like a piece of shit for not really wanting to deal with it. Ian had no idea who was in more trouble, either: Mickey for shoplifting and terrorizing, or Kash for finally shooting him for it. Surely Kash would argue self-defense, and Ian couldn't exactly blame him. On the other hand, you couldn't just _shoot_ people with no consequences, could you?

     Even more bothersome to Ian was that he was partially to blame for the situation. He'd been cheating on Kash with Mickey--but Kash had been cheating this whole time on Linda with Ian. But hadn't Ian told Lip recently that Kash had nothing to be sorry for? The lines seemed blurred; he hadn't even been able to sleep with Kash since Linda found out. It was unspoken, but things just felt kind of finished with Kash. _Was I wrong to think it was?_ Ian decided he probably was. The fault lie with both he and Kash that things ever began while Kash was married.

     Ian didn't regret it. He truly cared for Kash, but it's not like he really knew how to do a normal, healthy, monogamous relationship. His own parents, Frank and Monica weren't always exclusive. Monica would run off with some guy, leaving his father heartbroken and wandering. Lip never even kept the same girlfriend long.

     Ian was confused by the guilt he felt, and surprised at how easily he'd betrayed Kash. For as long as they'd been together, and for all they'd done for one another, Ian supposed he owed Kash more than to let him walk in on Ian screwing Mickey in Kash's own store. _Shouldn't have let that happen_ , Ian resolved. He continued to jog along toward home until he noticed Lip smoking on the stoop of his friend Karen Jackson's house. Her mom was Sheila, the woman with whom Frank had been shacking up.

     Ian stopped to plop down next to Lip and catch his breath. He'd almost completely forgotten the reason he reached out to Mickey today. Monica was back. He was quickly reminded upon hearing Monica and Frank arguing loudly inside. Ian borrowed Lip's cigarette. He filled Lip in on the drama at the Kash and Grab and asked what he'd missed with his mom.

     "Well, you know how, uh, Dad's a total fucking asshole?"

     "Yeah," Ian agreed.

     "Turns out he's the good one," Lip said with a wry smile. Ian sighed as Lip put out the cigarette and led him inside. Ian felt exhausted with having to face another crisis head-on.

...

     Ian didn't have a chance to be alone with his thoughts until after he and Lip had dissected the horror of Monica's return late into the night. Monica had come back wanting to take their youngest brother with her and her girlfriend. Ian hardly hand the energy to spare to be curious at Monica's lesbian relationship because he was so worried about the idea of losing Liam.

     On top of that, the family's rock, Fiona, took a stand against Monica. She walked out, declaring she'd leave Monica to take care of the family while she lived with Steve. Ian understood Fiona's protest to Monica's claim for Liam and he knew his sister would never abandon them the same way Monica had. But the fight against their mother seemed harder without Fiona in the house.

     Ian lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, growing sleepy as his thoughts fell back to Mickey and Kash. He was slightly in awe that Kash had finally stood up for himself in the way that he did. He guessed that catching Ian with Mickey must've pushed Kash over the edge. Ian tried to simplify things: Kash or Mickey. Not that he was sure that he really had his pick with either of them at this point, Kash being married, outed, and hurt, and Mickey being closeted, possibly incarcerated and wounded.

     Ian found that Mickey undoubtedly shone brighter in Ian's mind than Kash. He felt himself inexplicably drawn to Mandy's complicated brother. Mickey had a very tough, thick exterior but had shown Ian glimpses of the boy underneath. Ian drew on the memory of their lone kiss that afternoon. The way Mickey allowed him to touch his face, the momentary surrender in the older boy's blue gaze that wordlessly granted Ian the permission to amalgamate their energies between their touching lips. Ian, at last, was comforted and fell asleep.

...

     No one in the Gallagher house had a restful night, so the next morning Ian was too emotionally drained to get very involved in the drama the next morning with Monica and her new lover, Bob (short for Roberta). He let Lip take over most of the argument on whether they should be allowed to take Liam, and he watched with Debbie and Carl as Monica ran after Lip, pleading in her way.

     One of the most uncomfortable things about Monica was the way she would stand so close in front of each of person she wronged. The way she would beg for them to believe how much she loved them, despite choosing drugs, lovers, and generally herself over motherhood. Ian couldn’t deny he loved her—but to love Monica was to know heartbreak, anger, abandonment, disappointment... Ian heaved a sigh as they walked to their high school. Lip was quiet, obviously in calculation mode as he nursed a cigarette thoughtfully between his lips.

     As they approached the school, Ian remembered he needed to find Mandy. He looked for her in the crowd near the smoker tables, and saw her perched atop of one alone.

     “Hey, I’ll catch up to you at lunch, okay?” Ian muttered to Lip.

     “Mm. Mmhmm,” Lip said, still distracted. Ian strode over to Mandy with his long legs.

     “Hey, Mandy,” he began, sliding next to her. She looked as tired as he felt, puffy eyes turning up at him.

     "Mickey's in jail," she greeted matter-of-factly.

     "Oh, shit. Sorry."

     "Dad's pissed. It kind of fucks up some business thing he had my brothers working on." Mandy dug out a cigarette from her bag.

     "Have you had a chance to talk to him yet?"

     "Yeah, only for a second when he called the house last night, but then he had to talk to my dad. He wouldn't tell me what happened. What was up with you calling him yesterday?" She lit up.

     "I, uh, was just trying to convince him not to do anything stupid. You know, tried to prevent something bad from happening, like Mickey getting shot and arrested." Ian rolled his eyes, trying to avoid answering the question too honestly. "I really didn't see most of what went down. I only came out of the back room when I heard Kash shooting at Mickey. Guess it was only a matter of time." Ian shrugged.

     "Well, shit. That's probably true. He was on probation, you know. Dumbass." Mandy sighed.

     "Sucks." Ian commiserated. "Will he be in there long?"

     "Who knows? So why do _you_ look like shit today?" Mandy asked, passing Ian the cigarette.

     "Family shit. My mom showed up yesterday to ruin everyone's lives," Ian began, and took a long pull from the cigarette as Mandy studied him. The bell rang. "It's a mess, I'll have to tell you about it later," Ian said as they stood. They each took another drag and started toward the entrance to the building. Mandy wrapped her arms around Ian's waist and gave him a squeeze from beside him. Ian draped his arm around her shoulders as they walked to class.

...

     The next day, Ian sat in the waiting room of the jail. Visiting hours would be starting in a few minutes. He'd looked them up at home and jumped on the L to get there. He'd learned that morning from Mandy where Mickey was being kept. He hadn't been sure whether it was a good idea to see Mickey. _What if he's pissed at me?_ he couldn't help but ask himself a few dozen times on the train ride. He'd made the decision to see Mickey after opening up to Lip about their affair. Lip had been surprised on learning the details of what was going on in Ian's life, but was hardly judgmental.

     The night before, Ian and Kash had a rough night at the store. Kash had been hurt and didn't want to talk much, but Ian wanted to address it so it couldn't hang over his head. He'd apologized, and the two decided to stop seeing each other. Ian still felt guilty, but relieved to have some clarity. Ian found out that Kash wasn't necessarily in trouble, either. In fact, the neighborhood, cops included, was glad to see Mickey get his comeuppance. Ian was glad Kash wouldn't face any consequences; the gentle storekeeper was genuinely sorry and worried about Mickey. Ian found that kind of funny and had taunted Kash that Mickey'd take him to court for the bodily injury. Taking him seriously, Kash had pulled a few twenties from his wallet and tossed it on the counter.

     "Put that on his books. I hear he'll be there for a while," Kash had said and walked away from Ian. Ian had sighed, but pocketed the money, figuring Mickey could use it.

     Now, sitting in the chilly, cemented room, Ian shuddered at the idea of having to be locked inside. Institutionalized. The buzzers sounding all the time. A guard came in the room and escorted the group of visitors into a small room. Ian took a seat in front of a window with thick glass and waited for Mickey as his stomach performed anxious flips. Detainees filtered into the room opposite, but no sign of the Milkovich.

      _Maybe he refused to see me,_ Ian thought nervously. Before his mind could torment him, however, Mickey shuffled in on crutches, looking cleaner than Ian had ever seen him. _How does he look_ good _in a juvie uniform?_ Ian couldn't tear his eyes away as Mickey seated himself, looking annoyed with his crutches. They simultaneously reached for the phones they were to use.

...

**Mickey**

     "Thanks for putting money in my commissary account. Running low on smokes," Mickey said quickly, uncomfortable with expressing gratitude. He wasn't sure he liked that Ian had come to see him. He didn't want to answer any of the questions that might be raised by another guy visiting him in jail.

     "Not me. Kash. I told him you might still press charges." Mickey studied him for a moment, amused by Ian's response.

     "Thanks," he said again, his previous awkwardness blunted by Ian's show of coolness. He was rather physically close up to Ian now, even though they were separated by wall and glass. Mickey felt a little shy, and kept his face slightly turned away from Ian, but watched him. He had no idea what to say.

     "How long?" Ian demanded in a low voice, suddenly serious.

     "I dunno," Mickey said, defenses up again. "Supposed to be a year, right? Maybe only a couple months if I don't do anything stupid." Mickey looked away, the reminder of his situation depressing him.

     "Like what?" Ian asked.

     "Like stab that fat, fucking mick who keeps tryna steal my Jell-o!" Mickey yelled at one of the other inmates, glad for the opportunity of a distraction. Aggression was always a good cover.

     "Who me?"the redheaded inmate called back.

     "Yeah!"

     "Fuck you!" Mickey turned back to Ian, who was waiting to say something.

     "I-I miss you." Mickey stared, forcing his face blank.

     "You say that again, I'll rip your tongue outta your head," he warned, knowing he sounded too much like Terry. He didn't want to get into the emotional side of a relationship that _wasn't_ happening, and probably wouldn't happen, even if he wasn't locked inside of a fucking juvenile jail.

     But he missed Ian too, although he couldn't say it. Ian stared back at him, eyebrows raised daringly. Finally, the younger boy's face relaxed into a knowing smile that teased Mickey, and his hard expression broke. Mickey swallowed a smile, trying to look angry when Ian's long, freckled fingers pressed against the window.

     "Take your hand off the glass," Mickey said, shaking his head and looking away from Ian. Ian pulled his hand back with a small, "Oh," but was grinning again. _This sappy fucking kid_ , he thought. He licked his lips and steeled his face to look back at Ian, who was watching him. 

     "Thanks for coming the other day. I'm sorry it led to this, though. My mom--she came back and wants to take our baby brother with her and her girlfriend." 

     "Girlfriend, huh? Guess that runs in the family," Mickey cracked. Ian shrugged. "Anyway, you gonna be alright?" Ian nodded. 

     "We're getting a paternity test to prove that Liam is Frank's,so Monica can't take him. Lip and I took one, too, to prove that we're not Frank's." Ian said, smiling at the sad humor. Mickey said nothing, but saw the worry flicker across his face. They were quiet for a moment. "So, is it okay for me to visit you? I'd say you could call, but, I dunno, I share a phone with a bunch of people..." Ian asked. 

     "You know, no one else has been to see me yet. Family probably won't." Mickey glanced apprehensively at Ian. "It's probably better that way, makes it easier to survive in here, y'know?" 

     "Oh, sure," Ian replied, his face falling a little. 

     "What, like you wanna be here every week?" Mickey asked, and then lowered his voice. "It's not like I'm asking you to wait for me." 

     "You could." Ian gave him a small smile.

     "Christ, Gallagher." Mickey didn't know what the kid wanted. Mickey knew he didn't want to add to the agony of having to wait to get out. Ian was making it harder just sitting here in this jail. Mickey could see him, but couldn't touch him, he couldn't even really talk to him. He knew the game of the correctional system, and appearances was a big part of it. He didn't feel like he should have to explain that to Ian. "Don't you have anything better to do?" Ian shrugged. "Are you still fucking with Kash?" Ian shook his head no. 

     "Five minutes!" A guard shouted. 

     "Just take care of my sister, alright?" Ian smiled. 

     "She can look out for herself."

     "And yet it's you I'll be coming after if shit goes bad." Mickey insisted. 

     "Fine." Ian smiled at him again. Mickey fixed him with a look. 

     "Don't go out of your way for me, alright?" He asked quietly. His eyes danced over Ian's face, trying to tell him how much he hated that Ian cared. He didn't care that he was in trouble until it seemed that he had to answer to Ian for it. He didn't like the feeling that Ian was waiting on him. 

     "I'm here because I want to be," Ian said simply but firmly. For the next minute, they just looked at each other. Mickey took in the shapes of Ian's face, the expressive eyebrows, the penetrative green orbs, the curves and angles of Ian's mouth. 

     "Write me a fuckin' letter, Red," Mickey gave him a smirk and stood on his good leg. He grabbed his crutches and stood against the wall, waiting to be led back to his new reality. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay--thanks for waiting! This chapter was rough to get through for some reason--maybe because it's filled with too many awkward glances, and I hate it. But the next chapter should be more fun.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey addresses some of his feelings and problems.

... Chapter 9

**Mickey**

       Mickey was sitting in the cafeteria looking at his watery, gray oatmeal. There were a few other people at his table, but he sat alone. Mickey hadn’t made any friends in juvenile detention. In his past stays, he’d met kids from whom he could score weed, or with whom he could gang up to bully others for whatever else he wanted. This time, he was determined to keep his head down and get out as fast as he could. It’d been a few days since he really had a conversation with anyone other than the staff, and it brought him some sort of relief. Mickey was outgoing enough to strike up conversation when he wanted, but he’d really been using his time to consider the biggest change to his recent life.

     Before Mickey had gotten to jail, he'd gotten a taste of something he liked, and felt like a new heroin addict when it came to Ian. He had still been adapting to caring about someone other than family.  He’d looked out for his brothers, Mandy, even his idiot cousins. His mom, well, he didn’t really have a mom anymore, but he supposed he cared about her when he did. Ian was new. 

 _Not because of Ian,_ he’d been telling himself the past few months to break that train of thought. Rather than think of that, Mickey had to start considering his future. It wasn't easy for him, and he usually refrained from doing so. Thinking of his long-term future as it pertained to society was easier than thinking about living as a closeted gay man in it. He didn’t quite yet identify as gay, per say, but then what the hell else do you call it when all you can think about is a younger guy’s dick shoving up your ass? He was mostly afraid of his dad finding out and the violence that was sure to ensue. Mickey shook his head to clear the thought. No, aside from finding this sentence a vast inconvenience to his personal life, Mickey was seventeen, and the proximity of being tried as an adult for breaking the law was growing dangerous. 

     The buzzer sounded, halting his thoughts as breakfast ended. It was time the kids to group off for schoolwork. Some kids had workbooks for GEDs, some had "classes" for whatever high school credits they were trying to make up. Mickey was so behind in regular schooling, he didn’t take much interest. There, too, was a lot of job coaching, vocational training. And, unfortunately for Mickey, there was counseling, which he had that afternoon.

     Lately, Mickey had pored over the GED prep booklets, but was on the verge of giving up. Even as bad of a student as he was, he knew the education programs were crap, and he was hoping he wouldn't have time to accomplish much, since he wanted to get out in a couple months. He dumped his tray and lined up to go to the "library" to stare at a practice GED exam. He noticed the bit of white and blue sky he could see through the high window of the cafeteria. The edge of winter was lifting, and he wanted to get out, walk, and have a smoke.

     “Milkovich!” Mickey looked up, stomach flipping at hearing his name. He was getting unused to being acknowledged directly amid his recent social withdrawal. “Mail!” Mickey’s heart lifted. He hadn’t received anything yet, so it didn’t even cross his mind that it was the reason to be called out was something good. _If it_ is _good,_ Mickey warned himself with nervous anticipation. A portly female guard carrying a dirty plastic postal bin handed him an envelope, and Mickey tried to hide his ravenous curiosity. The sender read:

                    I. Gallagher  
                    2119 South Wallace Street  
                    Chicago IL 60623

     “Shit,” Mickey breathed with the closest thing to a smile that had crossed his face recently. He didn’t dare open it yet, he wanted to sit down with it, savor it. He tucked the envelope into his waistband as he went back to waiting for his group to be taken to the study room. Mickey remembered telling Ian to write when he'd visited, but he hadn't heard from him since. Mickey hadn't been expecting much from Ian, or figuring he was owed anything. Ian was a good-looking kid, and Mickey was steeling himself for when Ian started seeing someone else.

     Mickey obsessively checked for the envelope a few times as he walked down the miserable corridors that were too familiar by now, to make sure he hadn't dropped it. They got into the study room, and Mickey found a seat at a table where his back could be to the wall, where he felt he could read the letter in as much privacy as possible. Mickey took in the scrawled black letters for a moment, and then carefully opened the letter. Inside was a single sheet of loose leaf notebook paper, both sides covered in a neat but boyish scrawl. Mickey drew a breath and began reading. 

      _Mickey,_

 _Guess what. We were almost cell buddies. Lip and I got arrested for borrowing a stolen car._ _I probably shouldn't share the details here, but we did spend a night in a jail cell. It reminded me of you. Not in a bad_ _way. I was worried because getting arrested could have ruined my plans for the military, but we ended up getting let off. I_ _wasn't looking forward to possibly going to jail, but the thought of seeing you in there made it better at the time._  
_A_ _nyway, the reason we borrowed the car was to meet my dad's brothers. Well, Frank's brothers, I guess I should say. Remem_ _ber I told you we got a paternity test done? Turns out Frank's not my dad. His brother is. Lip and I met him._ _It was weird. I look just like him. No one else knows. I don't really want them to. I still want my brothers and sisters to feel_ _like my brothers and sisters if that makes sense. Monica left, by the way, and she decided to let Liam stay with us. I just_ _wanted to tell you all of that._  
_I've been looking out for Mandy, so don't worry about that. She's still my girlfriend, if you_ _know what I mean. I try not to ask her too much about you, because she still doesn't suspect anything ever happened between_ _us. But how are you? What are you doing in there? I hope you're doing okay and being the perfect suck up so they'll shorten_ _your sentence. Do you know anything about if you'll get out soon?_  
_I know you didn't want me to say it before, but I miss you. I hope that's okay. I get it if you've met someone else. It's probably_ _lonely and boring. But, I haven't seen anyone else. I've been hoping you'll get out soon and we can pick up where we left off._  
_Can I come see you again? I'm going to wire more money to you on Monday, so you'll probably have it by the time you get this._  
_Hope it helps._  
_Also, I keep thinking about the day you got shot. Earlier that day, I mean. I wish Kash didn't catch us._  
_We didn't get to finish that day, but maybe when you get out..._  
_Write back? I miss you._  
_-I._

     Mickey read the letter through a couple times, cheeks aching from the smile that pulled them back. He was glad Ian was smart enough to abbreviate his name--just in case. He looked around, making sure no one was watching him read Ian's letter. He refolded it, put it back in the envelope and folded it again. He slid it into his pocket, where he knew he'd check on it the rest of the day. Mickey got up and got himself a GED practice workbook. He knew he would't be able to focus much, the thought of Ian rolling around his mind now. But he figured he better at least try to use the next couple hours productively.

...

  
     Later that afternoon, Mickey followed a guard into his counselor's small office. His eyes were drawn to the small, purple armchair, which attracted him each time he'd come in--everything else around here was so damn clinical and plain-looking. His counselor, a short but sturdy woman with close-cropped hair sat behind her desk, opposite Mickey. He liked her okay enough. She didn't talk down to him, and still seemed young enough to not be jaded by her job. He could never remember her damn name--it was long and complicated. He knew her last name was Bernal, so he called her Bernie.   
  
     "So, Mr. Milkovich, how have you been doing since we spoke last?" Bernie asked cheerfully.   
  
     "Okay, I guess." Mickey said. It never seemed like she was talking to him when she called him "Mr. Milkovich." Already he was annoyed by the niceties. How the hell was he supposed to be doing? "How the hell am I supposed to be doing?"  
  
     "Mickey," She looked at him sternly over purple plastic frames, her tone firm but imploring. "Last time you told me that you're frustrated with the GED prep, right? Have you been working on that?"  
  
     "Yeah. I just don't don't get some of the math. And the science crap. Where am I gonna learn that shit?"  
  
     "High school?" The corners of her lips turned up slightly with her slightly sarcastic tone. "No, I get it. So, it's good that you've identified which parts are challenging for you. Do you think you might be interested in attending the math and science tutoring sessions? I have a schedule I can give you, and we can just adjust your daily placement accordingly? What do you think?"  
  
     "I think I'm fucked."  
  
     "Well, only if you don't try." She countered sharply. Mickey pursed his lips, not wanting to continue to talk about how the GED made him feel stupid and hopeless. "There's no time limit, you know. You can do this on your own pace. But like we talked about, it's in your favor to show you're using your time here positively. You want to get out before the next school year starts? I think you could do it. GED or not. Just going to the classes will still help you if you do decide to enroll in high school in the fall." Mickey nodded. "Okay, great." She pulled out a schedule and handed it to Mickey. "So let's talk about your mood. Have you gotten into any fights lately?"  
  
     "No, I haven't really talked to anyone."  
  
     "Why's that?"  
  
     "I don't want to. I just wanna get out of here. I'm bored."  
  
     "Bored. Okay. That's fair. Again, I'll point out that applying yourself to your education can help that." Mickey rolled his eyes and said nothing. "Okay," she said again. "Have you called your dad?" Mickey shook his head. "Hm. I noticed you had an addition to your account earlier this week. Was that your sister again?"  
  
     "No," Mickey shifted uncomfortably, remembering Ian's letter mentioning the contribution. "What does it matter?"  
  
     "Well, someone's doing something to look out for you. Does that matter to you?"  
  
     "I dunno." Mickey said, looking away."I didn't ask for the money."  
  
     "Oh," she said nonchalantly. She watched Mickey in silence for a moment.  
  
     "I got a letter today," he mumbled.  
  
     "Do you want to talk about that?" Mickey shrugged. "Can I ask who wrote to you?"  
  
     "My, uh, friend,"  
  
     "Oh. Were you glad to receive it?" Mickey shrugged again. "I don't believe you mentioned a friend before. Is it someone you go to school with or something?" He nodded.  
  
     Mickey considered telling Bernie about Ian. She looked... kind of like a dyke, with her short hair and her less feminine style of professional clothing. She might not judge him, and he was tempted by the fact that she couldn't share certain things he told her.   
  
     “You don’t really dress like a lady.” She arched an eyebrow and looked down at her plain blue button down and gray cardigan.  
  
     “These are women’s clothes,” she stated matter-of-factly.  
  
     “Yeah, but are you a dyke?”  
  
     “That’s an inappropriate question, Mr. Milkovich.”  
  
     “Why? I have to tell _you_ all kinds of personal things.” Mickey shot accusingly.   
  
     “Well, it’s not professional for me to discuss my personal life with you, much less my sexuality,” she said slowly. “Why do you ask?”  
  
     “Do you think it’s automatically gay to fuck someone of your same sex?”  
  
     “Well, that’s certainly a characteristic of homosexuality, but experimentation is normal. Even healthy, as long as you're responsible. It's not necessary to declare your sexual identity until you're sure. What are your thoughts on the topic?” Mickey didn’t answer right away. He fixed her with a look.  
  
     “These talks are confidential?”  
  
     “Yes, Mickey. Unless of course it pertains to the breach of any rules here. You know that,” she reminded him. “And I’m afraid if you’re considering engaging in sexual acts here in the detention facility, that _would_ violate the rules.”  
  
     “No, it’s not here.” Mickey said quickly.  
  
     “Okay,” she prompted. “Then please feel free to to speak in confidence.”  
  
     “My friend who wrote me and brought me money. Before I got here, we were... doing stuff.”  
  
     “And your friend is another boy?”  
  
     “Yeah,” Mickey averted his eyes.  
  
     “How old is he?”  
  
     “Fifteen.”  
  
     “Well, I’m glad you’re close enough in age. So, tell me what you think about this relationship.” He glanced at her. Her gentle concern comforted him slightly, so he continued.   
  
     “I don’t know. He's cool. And he likes me, I guess. I think about him a lot. But,” it was hard for Mickey to say these things so openly. “It has to stay a secret. My dad hates fags.”  
  
     “That’s a harsh word, Mickey.” He shrugged in response. “Look, I could give you the ‘it’s okay to be you’ speech, but I understand it’s more complicated for someone with a rough upbringing. Especially if you have homophobic parents. Just know that when it comes to relationships, caring, supportive, and trustworthy are a few qualities you should aim for. Who you have that with is unimportant, as long as it’s age-appropriate and consensual. Do you understand what means?”

     “Consensual?”  
  
     “That both people agree to it. It refers more to the sex side of things. Permission is important. Also, Mickey, I know you’re a smart kid, but you know that protection is important to prevent the spread of STI’s, right?”  
  
     “Like rubbers?”  
  
     “Yes. And, we can offer testing here to you. It’s not a bad idea for peace of mind. It’s free to you.”  
  
     “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.  
  
     “Good. Also, Mickey, I understand that it’s not easy to admit you might be gay. Even if you’re not, sexual preference is a really personal thing that can play as big or as small of a part in our identities as we want it to. I appreciate that you trusted me enough to share that with me." Mickey felt embarrassed by her warm statement.  
  
     “You want like a fuckin’ medal or somethin'?” He scoffed.  
  
     “Of course not. This isn’t about me, Mickey. It’s about you. And addressing issues like these, when you’re ready, will help you in your self-image, your personal growth, and your goals in life. It’s good work.” Mickey laughed.  
  
     “Fuckin’ _work_ , huh?” He mocked.  
  
     “Sure. Work in our personal lives is just as important to one’s well-being as it is in our professional or academic lives.” She smiled, unfazed by Mickey’s derision. “So, what’s your friend’s name?”  
  
     “Ian.”  
  
     “Anything particular from Ian’s letter that you want to talk about today? Any concerns or anything? I know you don’t have a lot of contact with many people outside of the facility.”  
  
     Mickey shook his head no.  
  
     “Okay. Fair enough. Do you think you’ll write back to Ian?”  
  
     “Maybe.”  
  
     “Well that’s good. Whatever happens with Ian, it’s good to have a friend, someone you can talk to.” She smiled her closed-mouth smile again. “Well, our time’s about up. So we’ll get you into the algebra and science programs, okay? You can start working in those opportunity areas and showing you have an investment in your future. Great progress, today, Mr. Milkovich. We’ll meet again on Monday, okay?”  
  
     “'Kay. Thanks.” Mickey mumbled. He followed her out of the office, and she led him into the yard.  
  
     “I think you have about ten minutes out here before dinner. See you.” Mickey squinted to adjust his eyes to the brightness of April afternoon. He walked out to where he could sneak a cigarette in peace, which he desperately needed after the probing conversation he just had. He pulled out a cigarette and a match from his sock, and let the relief of the first drag wash over him. With a sigh, he realized a small weight had been lifted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but I didn't like writing/uploading single chapters at a time. I spent some time writing a big chunk, which I will be editing/formatting/posting today!


	10. Chapter 10

... Chapter 10

**Ian**

     "Ian, you got something,” Lip said from his top bunk as Ian walked in one evening after his shift at the Kash and Grab.

     “What’s that?” Ian said, tired from a long day. He’d gotten some physical training in at lunch, and had a long, busy shift at the store immediately after school. He was ready to plop into his bed and not move until the next morning.

     Lip handed him an envelope and a smoking joint.

     “Oh shit, it’s from Mickey."

     “I kind of figured. How many Milkoviches do you know in juvie?” Lip cracked dryly. Ian took a deep hit from the joint and passed it back up to Lip.

     “At least three,” Ian retorted. “I’ll read it later,”

     "How was work?" Lip asked, hopping down to perch next to Ian. Ian opened the window behind them to aerate the Gallagher boys' bedroom.

     "Just busy, mostly. Pregnancy's got Linda in cleaning mode, which means I get to scrub and sweep and dust." He sighed.

     "How'd that geometry quiz go today?" Lip asked. Ian gave him a dark look and took the joint.

     "Okay. Seventy-five. Not great, but I can make up some of the points if I correct my answers." Ian said, holding in his smoke. "Can you check them in the morning?" Ian breathed out.

     "Cost ya," Lip said. Ian rolled his eyes.

     "Alright. Guess I'd better go finish these problems, then." Ian said.

     He took his backpack and Mickey's letter out to the back porch, where the neighborhood was starting to settle. Ian sat on the middle of the steps, the porch light granting him enough to work with. He took a deep breath and savored the crisp spring air. He looked at the envelope Mickey had sent, at the mixture of print and cursive in his letters. Ian tore open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of small, yellow legal pad paper. Ian smiled.

_Hey Red,_

_So you think you're a hardass now because you spent a night in jail? I hope you didn't like it, because this shit ain't fun. It's not all butt-fucking in here, you know? Still gotta study, food sucks, and you never get to shit in private. But I guess it's good practice for the army. Haha._  
_Your family is as fucked as mine, Gallagher._  
_I might get out this summer, You don't have to wait for me or anything. We ain't starcrossed lovers. But we can have a beer when I get out._  
_I miss you too, but mostly your cock._

_\--Mickey_

     Ian stared at the short letter. He smirked. Of course, Mickey's words wouldn’t be flowery, nor would he have a lot to say. Ian was hungry for a longer letter, but at the same time, the letter gave him a warmth as though he’d just finished a cup of hot coffee. Mickey had taken the time to reach out, and that was something.

     Ian shook his head, knowing he Mickey wasn’t giving him enough to justify the weight of Ian’s crush on him, just generally speaking. He read through the letter once more, trying to glean as much meaning from it as he could. He didn’t find much to respond to, but he was filled with questions he knew Mickey wouldn’t answer. What was going to happen with school? Would he come back? Ian couldn't hep but wonder things things for Mickey's sake.

     Worrying Ian more, was Mickey fucking anyone else in there? Mickey tried to be so aloof when it came to their relationship, but Ian knew he had found a tenderness, too, surprisingly. The concern in Mickey's eyes delivered by his piercing stare. The soft offering of his mouth the couple times they had kissed. Ian wanted more of that—to explore Mickey. To be able to take the time just kissing him. Learning the shapes of his teeth, the muscle of his tongue. To be able to commit to memory the taste and texture.

     Ian thought of the perfect rhythm of Mickey’s hips. The way they had responded to Ian’s. How impossibly good it felt to sink into Mickey’s unspoken requests for him. Ian closed his eyes and his jaw went slack as a wave of arousal rushed through him with the memory of Mickey’s body.

      _Fuck_ , he thought, shaking his head as if to clear it. He was far too hung up on Mickey and he knew it. Ian folded the letter and stuffed it into his pocket. He heaved a deep sigh as he reached for his math binder and got to work on his test corrections.

...

**Mickey**

     Mickey sat at the edge of his bed. It was evening. Some kids were in the recreation room, watching TV, and others read. Mickey had just gotten done with a few hundred push-ups, trying to get ride of some of the anxiety he had felt.

     He was getting out tomorrow. He was so close he could taste it, and the energy had him wired. He doubt he could sleep.

     Mickey had called Mandy earlier that day to remind her. She had been so excited for him.

     “Good job, Mick. I can’t believe you got out in, what was it? Six or seven months?”

     “Yeah, something like that,” Mickey had found himself smiling sheepishly into the phone. Mandy’s bubbliness was infecting him. 

     “See what happens when you follow the rules?”

     “What can I say? I’m a reformed man.” Mandy snorted.

     “I don’t know about all that, but I’m proud of you. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow. What time? You need anything?”

     “Around one, I think. Yeah, some clothes would be great. Smokes.” _Ian_ , he had wanted to say. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to get to Ian like a fucking freight train. He felt a little nervous about it. They had only exchanged one letter to one another, and Ian only came to visit only the one time when he’d gotten in. Mickey wasn’t sure what would happen if he tried to initiate something with Ian, just to be rejected, laughed at, or, find out that Ian was with someone else. Mickey tried not to feel jealous at the idea. He'd been gone so long, it almost felt like he'd dreamed the events of the previous winter.

     Bernie had asked him about Ian during their last meeting that morning. 

     “Will your friend Ian be part of a positive support system for you, Mickey?” She’d asked.

     Mickey had been staring at the floor, eyebrows arched so high it ached, lips pursed, arms crossed. They’d just finished discussing the Milkovich family, particularly his relationship with Terry. Mickey was closed off, angry to have to discuss it yet again. He hated admitting he was the victim of an abusive parent. He didn’t get the point of analyzing how his feelings, his choices, his mistakes were all impacted by a father he feared and loathed.

     Upon hearing Ian’s name, his eyes had risen to meet hers. Ian, be someone he could depend on? Probably. The kid was earnest, happy. Bright. Mickey nodded.

     “I think so,” he said quietly. She studied Mickey for a minute.

     “You seem hesitant about that answer, but overall more at ease when it comes to Ian. I think you’re right. I’m not saying you need to rely on him, but I sense he’s a good influence for you. It’s clear to me he brings out a different side of you, Mickey.”

     “I haven’t even talked to him lately.” Mickey said tightly. “I mean, we were kind of friends before, or whatever. But things... he might’ve...” He had suddenly felt more vulnerable, open, than when they were talking about Terry.

     “You think you might not be able to resume the relationship in the same way?” She asked.

     “I don’t know, I guess. We were just fucking. How hard is it to resume that?” They stared at each other. Mickey felt a rawness in his chest.

     “Well Mickey. You understand my point, and I know you know why it’s important to surround yourself with the right people. People who are doing productive things who can help point you to the right path.

     "I would like to see you continue to define your goals more clearly. You’re a smart young man. Keep working on studying for that GED. It’ll do you good to accomplish something. I know you can do it." Mickey’s eyelids fluttered slightly, but he refrained from rolling his eyes at her encouraging language.

     “Yeah, okay,” was all he said.

     “Okay. Well, here’s to hoping I never see you again, Mr. Milkovich.” She grinned at him. “Good luck.”


	11. Chapter 11

... Chapter 11

**Mickey**

     Mickey changed in a holding room into the his own jeans and a sleeveless shirt that Mandy had brought. The clothes smelled like home. Cigarettes, and faint laundry detergent. He smiled to himself, almost giddy to be leaving.

     A guard handed him his bags and escorted him out. He didn’t know this particular one, or he’d have left him with some parting words, along the lines of, “asshole,” or “cocksmoker.”

     He stepped out into the warm, Chicago air and saw Mandy in front of the shitty concrete landscape. Standing next to her, fair-skinned, brawnier, taller, and with a freshly-cropped carrot top, was Ian. Mickey’s insides jolted, his elation doubling. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d just won a million bucks. He gave into a cocky swagger—he had to, otherwise his gaze would betray him by zeroing in on Ian’s face and melting into a fucking puddle.

...

     Mandy caught Mickey up on the drama in the Milkovich household while they rode the L back to their neighborhood. Ian sat across from them, watching Mickey. Mickey regained his usual irascible composure, but underneath he was jittery at having Ian so close. He’d never admit how much he’d actually thought of Ian while imprisoned. And now having Ian here in front of him, Mickey registered how profound his infatuation with the redhead had been.

     It didn’t help him that every so often, Ian would smolder at him through his fiery lashes. Any time Mandy wasn’t paying attention, Ian would eye him suggestively. Mickey had never seen anyone display as much sexiness as Ian was emitting with just his eyes. Whenever Mandy would tune back in, Ian cleared his face of all evidence, except for a small, pleased smile.

     The first couple of rounds in this little game, Mickey would shoot Ian his best, angry thug face. He quickly lost, when his expression broke and Ian caught his smile. Now, Mickey did his best to ignore Ian. He was at high risk of popping a boner and he could tell Ian knew it.

     When they got to the Milkovich house, they had a minute alone while Mandy went to the bathroom.

     “Jesus, Gallagher, you’d think _you_ were the one locked up, looking at me like I’m your fucking dinner." Ian grinned lecherously, and, because he knew the house was otherwise empty, he pushed Mickey against a wall and lowered his head to speak directly into Mickey’s ear.

     “Well, I _have_ been starving, and _you’re_ exactly what I want to eat.” Ian hummed into his ear. His voice had deepened, was richer, warmer than Mickey remembered. At the sensation of Ian’s breath upon his hear, Mickey felt a rush of blood bolt through his lower belly and form a rod. He shoved Ian, hard.

     “Tonight, fucker. Meet me under the L again. I got some shit I gotta do first.” He smiled wickedly and went into his room, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to withstand the sexual tension, even with Mandy around. He closed the door behind him.

     Mandy came back to find Ian perched casually on the arm of the cigarette-burned couch.

     “Where’d he go?” She asked.

     “His room,”

     “Probably to enjoy jerking off in private again,” she cracked. Ian laughed a little harder at this than he should have.

...

**Ian**

     Ian loitered in the clearing under the bridge, his hands stuffed into his pockets. Whereas he was so confident in toying with Mickey earlier, restless waves crashed through his stomach now. He fought to contain his excitement to finally be with Mickey alone again.

     When Mickey finally loped into view, slightly lopsided from his leg injury, Ian let out a long exhale, realizing part of his previous anxiety came from not knowing if he’d gotten stood up. Mickey was smirking and carrying a heavy-looking backpack.

     “Let’s go,” Mickey said.

     “So,” Ian prompted, falling into step beside him.

     “So.” Mickey said dully.

     “You happy to see me today?” Ian asked, hearing his own earnestness tinge the teasing lilt. Mickey looked him up and down out of the corner of his eyes.

     “It’s whatever. Thought maybe you’d gone back to ol’ Kash and Grab. Didn’t hear from you too much.” Mickey said flatly.

     “No, I didn’t. We broke up for good. He’s actually gone. It’s just Linda and I running the store,” Ian answered.

     “Hm,” was all Mickey said, not inquiring further. Ian felt slightly uncomfortable, the confidence from earlier escaping him. He felt somehow exposed now that it was just the two of them, and Mickey was doing a better job of his standoffish show now than he had earlier that afternoon. Ian couldn’t find anything to say until they started to approach the little league fields. "Well, what have you been doing lately?" Mickey asked finally. 

     “Working. Training with Lip." Ian began, trying to warm up the conversation."He got into this underground boxing thing, getting his ass kicked. Dude can take a punch, but damn."

     "Think you could do better?" Mickey asked.

     "Heh, maybe, but I like my jaw where it is. Plus, uh, I need my brain cells. Taking a bunch of math classes," Ian said.

     “Hot as balls tonight,” Mickey said, indicating he wanted a subject change.

     “So I’m taking geometry, algebra II, trigonometry and chemistry."

     “During the summer?” Mickey asked, in spite of himself.

     “Well, I'm trying to get into West Point."

     “If you want the army to give you a fuckin' gun, all you gotta do is enlist. The recruiting station's like, two blocks that way." Mickey led Ian into the dugout.

     "But I wanna be an officer."

     "Wanna be an officer, huh? Don't officers get shot first?" Mickey teased, pulling a beer out of the backpack and a knife from his pocket.

     “Here, shotgun,” Mickey stabbed the can of cheap beer, and took some, quickly passing it. Ian took it gratefully, allowing the fast delivery method to get him buzzed.

     “So did you make a lot of friends on the inside--,” Ian started to ask, finally trying to get to the point he wanted to find, asking if Mickey had been with anyone else. 

“You wanna chit-chat more, or you wanna get on me?” Mickey interrupted, looking up at Ian daringly, clearly galvanized by the beer. _Must have a lower alcohol tolerance without daily access,_ Ian mused.

     Ian eyed him carefully before making a move. Of course he wanted to get on Mickey.

     Simultaneously, they tore to undo their pants. Ian spun him around and Mickey reached for his belt with a laugh.

     “Kinda hoped that’s where this was going,” Ian said. “Brought some things.” He pulled a small bottle of clear liquid from his pocket and poured some of it into his hands. He slid his hand down and pierced into Mickey gradually with one finger, then two. Ian had fantasized about a tender, sensitive moment with Mickey, but they each had too fervent an appetite for one another just now.

     “Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey said in a teasing voice. Ian undid his own pants with his left hand. Before sliding them down, he reached into the back pocket and tore into a foiled condom wrapper with his teeth. Still one-handed, he rolled it down the length of his fully hardened cock. He took his hand away from Mickey’s behind and reached around to Mickey's cock instead. Pleased to find Mickey was also fully erect, he drove himself assertively up into Mickey. Mickey let out a small choke of surprise and satisfaction.

     “You fucking feel that?” Ian growled through gritted teeth, not pumping yet, but letting his cock rest inside of Mickey.

     “Uh-huh,” Mickey grunted submissively, back arching. Ian slowly slid back out, widening his stance, preparing to fully propel himself into the throes of his nervous system. He shivered as he carefully pulled back until just the tip was connected to his lover. He felt Mickey brace under him, hands clutching the chain link fence. Ian’s right hand still rested around Mickey’s swollen cock, and Ian slid his left arm around and up Mickey’s tight torso until his hand pressed flat against Mickey’s right collarbone. He held Mickey for just a second, and then launched into fast, hard thrusts, his pelvis pummeling Mickey’s small cushion of an ass.

     “Oh, god,” Ian cried. “Fuck yeah!” Ian squeezed Mickey with his right hand and jerked him roughly to the tempo of their movement. His left arm kept Mickey pinned firmly against his body and he kissed the nape of Mickey’s neck. He knew at any second, Mickey might make him stop with his mouth, but he didn’t care. He needed to taste Mickey, so he kissed, he licked, and he sucked Mickey’s salty skin until he couldn’t breathe. Mickey never protested. Instead he leaned back into Ian, breathing in time to Ian’s rhythm. Ian found a spot, that when he pounded it with his head, Mickey let out a primal growl of pleasure. Ian aimed for his spot, again and again, his entire body feeling electric. Mickey pushed his ass against Ian, silently begging for more. Mickey collapsed his head back into Ian’s shoulder, and the closeness of this small act sent Ian over the edge.

     “Mickey, I’m coming, I’m coming so hard. Ahhhh,” Ian shuddered with the finish and felt the violent twitches from Mickey’s cock project his pleasure with good distance. Mickey gasped for air with his own release. Ian unhanded him and backed away. Both boy’s reached quickly for their pants.

     “Ahh. I’ve always wanted to do that here!” Mickey yelled as he straightened up. He laughed, catching his breath. Ian watched him as he pulled off the spent condom and tossed it in a nearby trash bin. "Get back at that little league commissioner who kicked me off my baseball team for pissing on first base."

     "I remember," Ian said, recalling a tiny Mickey Milkovich with a smile.

     "You heard about that?" Mickey asked, incredulous. Clothed again, Ian found a horizontal support bar in the rafters and by force of habit reached up to do some pull-ups.

     "I was playing second," Ian said, amused at Mickey's realization that they'd grown up together. Mickey cracked open another beer and watched Ian's quick, deft motions as he lowered himself and pulled back up.

     “Tough guy, huh?” Mickey swallowed some beer as Ian smiled sheepishly and dropped down. Mickey took his place with a grunt and Ian admired the power in Mickey's pull-ups. He took in the contoured shadows in Mickey's pale, bare arms reflecting the few field lights from the distance. Mickey dropped down with a proud grin of bravado. Ian looked away not wanting to encourage his machismo. "Not much to do in the joint but work out," Mickey explained, taking a spot to stand next to Ian. Winded, Mickey reached for a cigarette.

     "You could read," Ian suggested, sneaking another glance at Mickey.

     "Agh," Mickey grunted in protest. "Fucked for life anyway, man." Ian noticed Mickey's expression of mirth change into a more sober one of doubt and eased off the reminder of school.

     "Wanna sneak into the Sox game tomorrow?" He offered, hoping Mickey wouldn't balk at the date idea. Sporting events dates always seemed less... stereotypically gay. Mickey shook his head no as he sucked his lighter's flame through the cigarette.

     "Nah, man, I gotta get me a job. If I don't get one in two weeks, my probation skank's gonna do it for me, and I'm gonna end up losing a limb at the meat-packing plant," Mickey explained in his brisk south side rattle.

     "Well, maybe she'll find you something better," Ian offered consolingly, sensing Mickey's dejection.

     "She ain't gonna find fuck all," Mickey dismissed, gaining momentum on his lamentation. "My dad even had to threaten this mook he knows from high school to give me a job tarring roofs."

     "Maybe you could head down to Malcom X and, uh, take some vocational training?" Ian suggested, wishing Mickey would persist in something other than blatant delinquency.

     "Why the fuck we talking about Community College right now?" Mickey asked irritably. "Jesus Christ, you wanna spread a blanket out and look for shooting stars next?" Ian dropped the topic again and belched at the same time as Mickey. Ian smirked.

     "I could talk to Linda," Ian proffered.

     "I'm sorry--you want me to work at the place I got shot?" Mickey looked at Ian like he was an idiot. "Redemption tale." Ian dropped his smile. This was his last suggestion for Mickey. He hated seeing that Mickey was so disinterested in applying himself.

     "What would I be doing?" Mickey asked, eyebrows raised.

     "Helping?"

     "I ain't cleaning up after people."

    "It's a pretty clean store, Mickey." Ian answered knowingly.

     "What about security? You know, scaring people like me who come in the store and try to steal shit." Mickey said lowly through a cloud of smoke. Ian smiled, turned on again by Mickey's grit.

     "Stealing's been down since your shooting."

     "Do whatever you want, man, you brought it up." 

     "Alright." Ian said, disappointed that Mickey didn't appreciate his effort. Being with Mickey was like wrestling a large fish. Just when he thought he'd gotten through to him, Mickey would slip away again.

     "You ready to go again, or you, uh, need some time, firecrotch?"

      _Well, at least he's into the sex_ , Ian ceded. Mickey was back into a lighter, feisty mood, and Ian had fallen into the mood to punish him a little bit for his negativity.

     Ian dropped the beer he was working on and gave Mickey's shoulder a shove to turn him around. Mickey braced himself against the lip of the dugout, as Ian placed a hand at the nape of his neck to guide him down over into the perfect position. Ian fished out another condom and slid into it, taking in the shape and receptive position of Mickey's ass. He gave it a good look, letting the visual stimulant surge fiercely into his cock.

     Ian took either side of Mickey's narrow hips with his hands, and unceremoniously pushed his rigid cock sharply into him. Mickey grunted sportingly, braced against the wall, showing he was capable of withstanding Ian's force. He removed the cigarette from his lips and put it out.

     Ian felt around with his thrusts for the spot he knew would spur Mickey to the edge. He attacked with a steady purpose until Mickey gasped and shuddered with ecstasy. Ian didn't stop, but he slowed down, intentionally stimulating Mickey.

     "I finished," Mickey panted.

     "You're not done yet," Ian said roughly. Mickey cried out, and Ian slid his hands up Mickey's torso, beneath the tank top he still wore. Hands splayed on Mickey's warm, dampening skin, he pulled the boy against him once more. Ian was taken away with lust, groping at Mickey's chest from behind as he continued his passionately measured plunges into him. "Are you mine?" He demanded into Mickey's ear through teeth gritted with voracity. "Are you fucking mine?" He could partially see Mickey's face and how it was screwed into a grimace, fighting the concurrent pain and pleasure he was experiencing. Mickey nodded, his eyes pressed shut. 

"Yeah..." he answered in a strangled whisper. "Yeah. Fuck yeah," At this, Ian felt himself nearing his own second eruption. He pushed all the way inside of Mickey and burst deep inside. At the end of his orgasm, he released Mickey and stumbled back, to lean against the wall. Mickey turned to look at him, picking his pants up again. They gazed at each other for a moment, shining with sweat and breathing heavily. Ian tore off the second condom and threw it away.

     "Jesus, that was a lot of cum." After refastening his pants, Ian stepped toward Mickey and grasped the back of his head roughly. He took his mouth with a hard, crude kiss, then released him to reach for his beer. He collapsed on a bench and rested his head against the wall, eyes closed with exhausted euphoria. He heard Mickey relight his discarded cigarette and sit down next to Ian, so their shoulders and their knees touched. Mickey nudged Ian to passed him the cigarette, and the two shared it in silence, except for the slurping of beer every so often. When they finished it, Mickey flicked it aside and looked Ian in the eye.

     "It's getting late," he said in a soft, quiet voice that Ian wasn't used to hearing. He rolled his head over to look at Mickey. Again, he silently revered Mickey's skin, his face. The way the light shone through the blue orbs.

     Ian felt the need to touch Mickey, just to feel him. Ian reached over and dragged his slim, freckled forefinger down the smooth skin of Mickey's bicep. Ian's fingers fell to his lap, and his fingertips slid down the length of the top of Mickey's leg. Ian's fingers lightly swirled around Mickey's kneecap and ran back up to his hip. Mickey closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall next to Ian.

     "What are you doin'? That shit tickles." Mickey asked in a thick, sleepy voice, but he allowed him to continue. Ian said nothing, but traced back up his arm again, feeling goosebumps this time, despite the heat. Ian redrew the path along Mickey's arm and leg while Mickey lay against the dugout wall. Ian watched his still face, his closed eyelids twitching every so often, but otherwise placid. When he returned to the top of Mickey's arm, he reached over to drag his fingers across his chest. He leaned his face into Mickey's neck, feeling completely pacified to be with him, after months of worry and loneliness. At this, Mickey caught Ian's fingers over his chest with his opposite hand, eyes still closed.

     "This is all I've wanted for months," he whispered. Mickey lingered for beat and opened one eye to look down at Ian, tucked into his shoulder.

     "Me, too." Mickey answered quietly. "I don't even get it." Ian lifted his head to get a better look at Mickey's face. Their fingers still linked, Ian lifted his hand to cup Mickey's jaw.

     "Keep your hands to yourself, Elmo," he cracked. Ian's cheeks were tired at this point from restraining his smile, so he nestled his face into the crook between Mickey's jaw and shoulder. Mickey dropped Ian's hand back into his own lap and stood to stretch with a yawn. Ian shifted, feeling warm and sleepy as he rose, too, partly from the beer, partly from sexual satiety. Mickey gathered his knife and his backpack and cocked his head for Ian to follow him out of the dugout.


End file.
